


We Are The Wild Youth

by BlackHogwartsWrites (vashtishacklebolt)



Series: Don't Let Me Be Gone [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bi!Dorcas Meadowes, Black!Dorcas Meadowes, Death, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Hogwarts Seventh Year, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder Mystery, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Smoking, Teenage Rebellion, dorlene, jily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25654156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vashtishacklebolt/pseuds/BlackHogwartsWrites
Summary: Lily Evans and Dorcas Shacklebolt return to Hogwarts for their final year. They'll have to pass their N.E.W.T.s, navigate love, heartbreak, and friendship, and get ready for life after Hogwarts, all while solving a murder mystery.
Relationships: Dorcas Meadowes/Original Character(s), James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes
Series: Don't Let Me Be Gone [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698874
Kudos: 6





	1. Cigarette Daydreams

Lily’s head was still full of summer scenes.

Her arms weighed down by Daily Prophet broadsheets, budgets, advance runs, and back copies, running to and fro between the beehive of the Prophet office cubicles to the hushed and dimly lit Archives. Butterbeers under the flashing sign of the Leaky Cauldron, surrounded by friends. Flaskfuls of firewhisky in the middle of the bright London night, her shoulder and knee pressed hot against James Potter’s. How hearty his laugh was when she made a stupid joke, how his eyes gleamed in the light from the streetlamps, how something like electricity shot through her when their hands touched. Finger to palm as he handed her a bright red toy double decker bus through the window of her room as he hovered on his broom several stories over the quiet, thankfully empty, road. How all those moments were swept away in the rush to Hogsmeade alongside Dorcas, Alfred, and Cassius, to find Kingsley, Professor Asante, and Trinity Oppenheimer. They were too late to stop Oppenheimer, and too late to save her, though they were just in time to see Kingsley send Asante underground, implicitly trusting some kind of secret network to keep her safe. These tumultuous events were followed by four weeks of late summer in Cokeworth-- drifting through the lanes on her bicycle, wading through the grassy pastures, leaning on the railing of abandoned industrial buildings, tossing pebbles into the slimy canal-- left her feeling impatient to get back to school, back to Hogwarts, back to the blissful monotony of school life, back to the warmth of her circle of friends, back to --

But something was different. Something in the air, something in the way James was speaking to her now, something in the way she was talking, smiling, feeling when he was with her. Something inside Lily, somewhere in the region of her chest, was contracting and then expanding until she felt she might collapse. It was horrible, and she wanted more. And she knew it had something to do with James Potter. She was ready to board the train, go back to school one last time, and figure out what was going on once and for all.

It was an overwhelming scene on platform 9 3/4. 

The steam rose into the air, illuminated by shafts of sunlight slanting through the station’s soaring steel girders. The light made the fresh red paint on the Hogwarts Express gleam. Students, from the smallest, shyest first-years, to the tallest, most confident seventh years, parents of all shapes and sizes and all their very small children added to the chaos. A grandfather in a pilled sweater handed a wrapped sandwich to a second-year, imploring him to stow it safely away, and not to trade it for candy. Someone’s mum jogged down the platform, holding a cage that contained a shocked-looking exotic owl, in an attempt to catch up with her fourth-year daughter before she boarded without her familiar.

Lily breathed in deeply. The steam, the urban exhaust in the crisp September air, the earthy scent of animals, the feeling that came with the beginning of another school year, her last. She was saddled with more responsibility than ever before. She was Head Girl now, as well as editor-in-chief of Hogwarts’s muggleborn-run newsletter, Veritas. Her last year held more promise than any year previously had. It had been a long time since she’d felt this much hope coursing through her veins.

“Lily!” called a voice from the crowd. Lily looked up to see Mary MacDonald coming toward her. She had a big smile on her face, her fringe had grown out, and she had with her a large, irregularly shaped piece of luggage that Lily realized was a beaten-up old guitar case. Lily’s eyes went wide.

“Mary, what’s this?” she asked, pointing at the case. “You didn’t mention this in your phone call!”

“M’ maw surprised me this morning! She saved up her wages--” Mary said, her words coming quickly, excitedly. She bent to open the case and show Lily.

Inside, tucked into a thread-bare red velveteen interior was a sleek blue chrome guitar. Lily’s face fell.

“Mary,” she said carefully. “That’s an electric guitar.”

Mary beamed. “Aye, she bought it second-hand, in’t it bonnie?”

“Yes, of course, Mary, I mean--” Lily bit her lip. “I mean, it’s not going to work at Hogwarts, bab. Electricity doesn’t work at Hogwarts.”

Mary shrugged and closed the case, snapping it shut deftly. 

“I’m sorry,” said Lily. She laid a hand on Mary’s shoulder. But Mary looked up, smiled wide.

“I know it doesnae look like much, but trust me, I have plans for it.”

Lily tried her best to not burst her bubble. She put on a placating expression and nodded encouragingly.

“Well, that’s alright, then. And you’ll be okay with all your extra coursework?”

Mary looked down at her hands clasping the handle of her guitar case.

“I think so. McGonagall assigned me a tutor this year. In fact, I think that’s the lass there.”

Lily looked in the direction that Mary was waving. A little ways down the platform stood a very pretty blonde girl with a pink turned-up nose. Her eyes slid from Mary’s attempt to get her attention, as if she hadn’t seen her at all. She was standing with a pair of twins. Lily recognized Cassius Meadowes and his brother Junius, and she waved. Mary turned to look in the same direction.

“Oh do you know Cath Wilkes then,” she asked. 

“The Meadowes twins,” answered Lily. “Cassius, that’s the one on the left, he was in the Auror office with Dorcas. His brother is Junius, Potter said he’s on the Slytherin quidditch team.”

Mary nodded. “I heard from Alfie there’d been a bit of action this summer down in London.”

“You have no idea,” answered Lily. She put her free arm through Mary’s and quickly launched into the story of what went down in London and Hogsmeade as they made their way down the platform. Mary gasped, laughed, and looked shocked at all the appropriate moments. 

“So, Kingsley gave her a portkey, and she just disappeared? You don’t know where she went?” Mary asked when Lily had finished. 

“ ‘Undisclosed location’.” said Lily, shrugging her shoulders.

The shrill train whistle drowned out all other noise for a moment, and Lily saw the time was ten minutes to eleven.

“Better board,” said Lily. “I’ve got to meet the prefects.” She let go of Mary and lifted her trunk and her owl’s cage and followed her onto the train.

“New bird,” Mary remarked, leaning forward to study the horned owl in Lily’s cage as they made their way through the corridor.

“It was a Head Girl gift from my dad,” said Lily, dragging her trunk and huffing.

“Did I congratulate you on making Head Girl?” said Mary as they toted their luggage into an empty compartment.

“Only about a dozen times, though you may make free with your praise if you’d like to congratulate me again,” laughed Lily as she set her trunk on the bench and opened it up, reaching for her school robes.

“Do ye know who’s Head Boy,” said Mary, stowing away her things and sitting down.

“Not yet,” said Lily. She buttoned her robes, straightened out her collar, and drew out her Head Girl pin, attaching it to her lapel.

“Hope it’s not someone we know who’s going to make it weird,” said Mary. 

Lily looked up. “What do you mean?”

“It would be hard to be friends. I mean, we’d all always have to worry whether house points would be taken away for something stupid, or if we’ll get detention.”

“Heads don’t give detention,” said Lily weakly, touching her pin lightly. She hadn’t thought about what it would mean to have authority among her friends. That one of them might break a rule and it would be her job to administer punishment. She felt her stomach plummet. She sighed and stood.

“Good luck,” said Mary as Lily slid the compartment door open. Lily cringed in her direction and a strangled sound escaped her throat. Mary laughed, and the sound died away as Lily let the door slide shut behind her, butterflies in her stomach.

As she began to make her way along the corridor, the clock struck eleven, and with most of the students at the platform-facing windows waving goodbye to their parents, the train jolted on its track and began to slowly make its way out of the station. Lily took a deep breath. 

* * *

Lily entered the Prefects’ carriage to find it almost empty except for a tall boy leaning out the window, letting the air rush over his sun-browned face. She knew the set of those shoulders, the way the sun shone bright on his black hair. And she had a moment of tender revelation. This boy, who could be by turns flailing and wild, or calm and strong, with his head out the window of the train speeding through the countryside, breathing in the scent of the river-mists steaming up off every leaf, every blade of grass, burning up in the sun, was beautiful. With the innocence of a child, he could blink his eyes in the light as if nothing had ever existed before the present moment, and nothing would exist after it.

“James,” she called, trying to sound authoritative, and James Potter quickly pulled his head into the carriage and looked back at Lily. His hair had been feathered at an odd angle by the slipstream. His glasses had been tossed askew by the wind. She swallowed. There, on his chest, glimmered a bright red and gold Head Boy badge. She looked back up into his hazel eyes, as he glanced quickly from her own Head badge to her face. She knew she’d gone a bit red. She hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Alright, Evans,” he croaked, his mouth breaking into an awkward smile.

“Yeah, alright, n’ you,” she said automatically. There was no answer, and they both decided at the same time that the floor was more interesting. James straightened his glasses and his robes.

She’d have to say something. Address this. After the summer they’d passed, they couldn’t work together, not without saying something, not without clearing the air. The small movements they’d made ever in approach of each other, the near-misses, the long glances, it would all have to stop. Whatever she’d been hoping for, she’d have to nip it in the bud before it made a mess of their Headship. Their friendship. 

James once more raised his eyes to Lily’s. For a moment it was summer again, as the sun hit him from behind, haloing him. The light curved off the round frame of his glasses. For all she knew, he’d just given her the miniature double-decker bus, had just brushed her fingers taking the firewhiskey flask from her, had just bent close to whisper a vulgar joke, gently touched her splinted wrist in the firelight of the Leaky Cauldron.

“Lily--” he began.

But before James could say whatever it was he wanted to say, hopefully to say what Lily hoped he would say, the carriage door slammed open, and in streamed half a dozen new prefects, and a few senior ones, including Remus Lupin. They brushed past Lily and James, knocking into them, bringing them back to the present moment, back to September first aboard the Hogwarts Express. Lily threw James a smile, trying to put into it everything she couldn’t say out loud just then.  _ I’m sorry, we’ll talk later, I had a fun summer, please, let’s just-- _

But the prefects were taking their seats, and the landscape of blue sky, green hills and deciduous trees was rolling past the windows, throwing flickering squares of sunlight over the prefects in their seats. Lily took a deep breath. James smiled back. He turned away from her and toward the other students.

“Oi,” he shouted, bringing their attention to him. “Welcome, prefects! Let’s get this over with.”

* * *

After James had finished orientation, there was a rustle of papers and knapsacks as prefects gathered their things to begin patrols along the train corridors. Lily felt her heart climb back into her throat as she summoned up her words to confront James before he set off on his own patrol.   
When the last prefect had left the compartment, James reached for the door handle. Lily stepped forward, and her nose caught the scent of cedar and clove.

“James, wait,” she said.

James turned, his brow quizzical. Lily swallowed, and in the silence, the sound of the train clattering over the tracks and rowdy students in the corridors roared to the foreground. She cleared her throat.

“I wanted to talk to you about…” she began. She looked up into his eyes. He regarded her steadily. It was unnerving, this undivided attention. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“About the summer,” she finished lamely. “And how we’re friends now and we’ve become quite close and now that we work together, it’s really more important than ever, you know, for being p-professional and all that, to stay friends and-- and to continue, you know, staying friends and-- all that.”

When she opened her eyes, she saw that James was looking down at her over the top of glasses with an amused look on his face. 

“Well, would you hark at you, Evans, you weirdo.” His smile crooked. He ran a hand through his hair.

“Wha--” Lily croaked.

“I’m glad we’re friends, you spaz!” laughed James. “It’s much better than being enemies, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I--” Lily blinked, at a loss for words.

“Good!” And with a flat, wide smile, James pushed his glasses up his nose with his thumb and turned to open the compartment door.

“Now, we’ve got work to do, c’mon. Merlin’s great pantaloons, I expected better from you, Evans, lazing about and talking nonsense,” James joked as he stepped out into the corridor. Lily followed him closely behind.

“Hey!” Lily objected. She could feel a laugh rise to her lips in spite of herself. He was teasing her. She set her mouth in a firm line to hold it off. “Hey, I am trying to make sure we stay on task, we don’t exactly have any sort of a Human Resources department you know--”

“There you go, Evans, going on about made-up things now.” James grabbed a baseball cap off of a student running in the opposite direction and with his other hand confiscated a Zonko’s brand noisemaker. He turned to face her, walking backwards without pausing. He grinned brightly, and laughed, “ _ Human Resources _ , honestly!”

Lily rolled her eyes almost hard enough to give herself a headache, but she felt her shoulders relax a bit with relief. She couldn’t tell if he was joking or sincere, but the golden summer moments of shoulders and knees side by side, pressed together, of grazing fingers and meaningful looks that had made her face burn with equal parts pleasure and terror were over and she was sorry for it. But if they were going to work together for the whole year, it was going to have to be that way. It would be much easier now that James had all but agreed to put it behind them and focus on what was ahead of them: Being co-workers.

* * *

Lily came to the door of compartment twelve, pausing to watch everyone inside-- Dorcas, Mary, Alfred, Sirius, Remus, and Peter all squeezed into the small space passing sweets back and forth. Lily huffed at the errant lock of auburn hair that had escaped from her ponytail and settled over her forehead. Ahead of her, coming through the carriage door, Remus looked up at her, his school robes, pinned with his prefect badge, thrown over a neat jumper. He smiled.

“How’s your first day as Head Girl,” he said.

“I need a fag,” she sighed, digging her cigarettes out of her robes-pocket. “Potter’s going to drive me to drink.”

“What’s he done now,” said Remus as they watched Dorcas pass Peter a cauldron cake. Mary was gesticulating enthusiastically in her conversation with Alfred, who was listening closely and smiling encouragingly. No doubt she was telling him all about her second-hand guitar. Sirius caught Lily’s eye through the glass in the door.

“He’s just being Potter,” she said, popping the cigarette between her lips. It bobbed up and down in her mouth, unlit, as she spoke. Remus looked up with concern.

“He’s not causing trouble, is he?” he asked, leaning forward.

Lily looked at Remus over the top of her cigarette. He seemed truly worried, brow furrowed, eyes serious. She shook her head, took the cigarette out of her mouth, let loose a heavy sigh as Sirius waved from his seat in the compartment, wordlessly putting two fingers against his lips-- he wanted a cigarette too. 

“No,” she said, licking her lips. “No, he’s alright, really.”

Remus leaned back with relief. They both startled at a knock on the glass. Sirius was standing at the door, gesturing a fervent request for a cigarette. Lily dug back into her pocket and drew a cigarette out of her pack. She opened the door and passed it to Sirius before letting it slide shut once more. 

“It’s not easy, is it,” she said to Remus, who watched idly as Sirius sat back down, making a little flame with his wand, taking a drag and exhaling, sending a plume of smoke upwards. Dorcas stood to open a window, causing the whistling air to pick up the smoke and rush it away. 

“What’s not,” he asked.

“Being in charge,” she said. She took her own cigarette out of her mouth. “You know, you’ve been a prefect with these knobheads to look after for years.” Lily watched Sirius puff away. She fiddled her cigarette idly between her index and middle fingers.

“It’s not easy,” said Remus. “Sometimes you have to decide whether you’re going to be the law or a friend.”

“Well, I don’t want to be the law!” Lily snapped. Catching movement behind Remus, she pushed herself against the window, and Remus, seeing her, flattened himself as well to let the people behind him pass.

Cath Wilkes and Junius Meadowes floated by hand-in-hand. The golden hues in their blonde hair, his dark, hers light, caught the flashes of sunlight that burst through the trees spinning past the train windows and made everything around them gray by comparison. Their skin shone brilliantly smooth, and they smiled serenely. They were followed by an arrangement of beautiful, fit, and smug Slytherins. Some were quidditch players, like Cato Parkinson, and some were prefects, like Ligeia Selwyn, and some were just moneyed, like Cuthbert Avery, or threateningly muscled, like Cal Mulciber. They passed in a fog of privilege, radiating untouchable, unapproachable energy, making everyone around them small until they passed. Lily and Remus both simultaneously exhaled and relaxed again.

Lily tucked her fist under her elbow and hunched over with a sour look on her face. Remus shrugged.

“I’m sorry, Lils. People with a lot more power than we’ve got tell us what to do, but it’s up to us to find a way to reconcile the two-- friendship and work. And you’re going to make mistakes, and that’s not going to be easy.”

“Well, I think he gave the job to the wrong person,” Lily interjected bitterly, placing her cigarette absentmindedly behind her ear. Beyond the window, trees crashed past, early afternoon sun-dappled, their thick green foliage still summer-full for now.

There were footsteps and a sudden knock on the glass of the compartment door, startling everyone. Lily and Remus turned to see James looking at Sirius through the glass, gesticulating forcefully with two fingers and pointing to the window. His message was clear. The cigarette had to go. He turned to Lily and gave her an exasperated look before reaching over and snatching her cigarette out from behind her ear, upsetting a lock of gleaming dark red hair.

“Contraband,” he said shortly before he tucked it into his pocket.

Lily sighed as James continued down the corridor out of sight. She snarled with disgust.

“I don’t want to be the law,” said Lily again, quieter this time, as she turned away from the compartment glass and toward the window on the other side. Remus let out a soft snort of laughter as he watched Sirius toss his cigarette out the window, while Alfred tossed an empty sweet wrapping at Dorcas, who laughed on the other side of the compartment. Remus looked back at Lily.

“Sorry about James. Frankly, the first day is always a power-rush for any new prefect or Head.” He smiled, amused at his friend’s absurd behavior. He looked at Lily again. “You could ask Dumbledore why he made you Head Girl. Or you could quit, and the job could go to someone else. Probably Ligeia Selwyn or Cath Wilkes,” said Remus as sweets wrappers flew through the air. Wands had been drawn, enabling them to stay airborne longer than was natural.

“I don’t like being a prefect, but I know why Dumbledore gave me the job,” Remus said, taking out his own wand. He flicked his wand and the sweets wrappers shot at speed in all directions, pelting Dorcas, Alfred, Mary, Peter and Sirius on their foreheads before falling to the floor. 

“He wanted me to rein in my friends, and make me feel like a normal boy, when anyone with two eyes can see that I’m not,” Remus said quietly, almost under his breath. Lily regarded him steadily, holding her breath, hoping to hear more. But he was too careful, too self-aware, to let anything slip. “The thing to remember is, you’ll have to live with whatever decisions you make.” Lily nodded gravely, though her ambivalence remained, like the effects of a potion that took too long to wear off.

* * *

The clatter of cutlery against gilded plates was deafening as platters of roast lamb, stewed carrots and onions, tureens of curry and rice, mountains of vegetables and fruits topped with verdant sprigs of rosemary, thyme, and mint suddenly appeared. Above the heads of the students and their teachers, above the food, above the thousand floating candles, the enchanted Great Hall ceiling loomed darkly, swirling with fast-moving purple clouds that scudded across the waning sickle moon. Lily waved to Mary at the Ravenclaw table, Alfred at Hufflepuff table, and Dorcas at Slytherin table in between mouthfuls of her favorite dishes. She playfully slapped away James’s hand as it inched toward her lemon meringue, and vibrated full of nervous laughter as he deposited a candied cherry from the top of his tart in the middle of her palm. She popped it in her mouth as she caught sight of Sirius’s eyebrows rising in her direction. He and Remus exchanged a knowing glance. She cleared her throat and threw James a pale smile in an attempt to downplay the-- whatever it was that had just passed between them as a hush fell over the student body at the sight of Dumbledore taking his place at the owl-engraved podium. He raised his hands, his voluminous violet velvet robes catching the light of a thousand candles. The hall fell silent. 

“To those arriving for their first year, welcome to Hogwarts. To those returning, welcome back. I won’t keep you for long, as we are all now satisfied and full to the brim, both with the sustenance of the feast and with summer gossip. First, I would like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Mr. Philip Wilkes, who has taken a sabbatical from his work as Wizengamot counsel to be with us this year.” Dumbledore paused for a smattering of applause as Professor Wilkes nodded in acknowledgement, his blond mustache quivering. “I am additionally charged with delivering a few reminders before you rush off to bed: Argus Filch would like you all to remember that magic is not allowed in the corridors, and that the following Zonko’s products have been newly added to the Contraband List. They are--  _ ahem _ \-- Flatulence Quills, Shock Quills, Cockroach Quills, Poop Quills, Vomit Quills-- essentially any waste material masquerading as a quill-- and Saltwater Taffy. The Forest is, as ever, out of bounds.”

There was a pregnant pause as the students waited for Dumbldore to dismiss them. Lily was perched on the edge of the bench, ready to jump up and direct the prefects in leading the students to their dorms, when Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Before you go, I feel compelled to say one more thing. It can hardly have escaped anyone’s notice that a series of troubling events has taken place recently. Often, news of these events is received secondhand-- from the front page of the Daily Prophet, or the airwaves of the Wizarding Wireless Network. More recently, students and professors we know personally have been involved. Danger has touched the very edges of our institution. Some of you will have no doubt noticed that a  _ tide _ is rising, that is threatening to overtake us all, and I must remind you that as pressure mounts, your instinct may be to try to shoulder your burdens alone. I implore you to resist this impulse, for  _ fellowship _ , not spells, not armor, not physical walls, will be our bulwark. Now that I’ve said my piece, good night, all, and good luck!”

The shift in the air was marked. Lily stood as the students around her gathered their things, as benches scraped loudly across the flagged stone floor, and prefects began to shepherd their students to bed. Lily and James waved a quick see-you-later to Sirius, Remus, and Peter, and walked briskly toward the front of the great hall, where they took up positions supervising the exit of the students. 

“So that’s Mr. Wilkes,” said Lily, watching him chat with Professor Flitwick on the other side of the Great hall. “The bloody death eater apologist. And now he’s our teacher. What was Dumbledore thinking?” 

“I saw a fair bit of him down in the courts at the ministry this summer,” said James. His mouth set in a grim line. “His job is horrific. He’s defended some pretty bad wizards, but he’s an expert in the Dark Arts.”

Lily sighed heavily. “I miss Professor Asante,” she said. “I hope she’s okay wherever she is.”

James’s eyes slid to the side and he cleared his throat. 

“Mhm, yeah, me too.”

Lily noticed him avoid her gaze, but hesitated to inquire further on the subject, as they were surrounded by chattering students making their way slowly to their dorms. She called to one group of second-years who had stopped to admire another student’s new haircut, when James made a loud grunt of disgust. She followed his line of sight to see Professor Slughorn walking with Cato Parkinson up the staircase. Parkinson was working his charm at full blast. James looked like he wanted to be ill. 

“Bloody wanker,” James muttered. “Say, who’s on patrol tonight?”

Lily thought for a moment. “Appleton, Parkinson, Avery, Selwyn, Chang and Remus.”

“Oh, no actually, I took Moony off the schedule,” said James quickly. He had gone back to supervising the flow of students into the Entrance Hall.

“What? Why?” said Lily.

“He said he wasn’t feeling well,” said James, his eyes fluttering from student to student. He finally looked up at Lily. “I suppose I’ll take over, since it looks like Parkinson will be skiving off now. Selwyn, too, look.” James gestured toward the dungeons where Lily could see Ligeia, her dark hair tied back with black ribbon, disappearing behind a tapestry with Marlene MacKinnon. Lily quickly turned to see Dorcas, her dark brown eyes trained on the spot at the far end of the hall where Ligeia had disappeared with Marlene. Her face was frozen in an expression of barely suppressed emotion. Lily reached over impulsively and grabbed Dorcas’s hand, shaking Dorcas out of her intense focus. Dorcas smiled sadly. Sirius came up behind her, throwing an arm around her shoulders and squeezing tight.

“Don’t mind Marlene, she’s always been a wild spirit, too free to tame,” said Sirius wistfully. “I should know, I dated her too.”

“You did?” said Lily.

“Yes,” Sirius nodded seriously. “In fourth year. We broke up after a week when we both realized we wanted to play for our own teams.” Sirius smiled mischievously. Then he squeezed Dorcas again.

“You deserve better,” he said matter-of-factly. Lily watched Dorcas carefully, but Dorcas had by now masked whatever hurt she’d been feeling with a smile. 

“What do you think Dumbledore meant by all that about fellowship,” said Dorcas. “Surely he doesn’t think we can all be friends. Imagine, friends with Parkinson or Mulciber,” she scoffed lightly.

“Perhaps he meant allies,” said James. The last students straggled out of the hall, and he, Lily, Sirius, and Dorcas crossed the flagged stone floor to pause in the center. It was quite empty now, and their footsteps echoed. Lily looked up to see James looking at her. She watched bemused as he stuck his hand in the pocket of his robes and fished out her cigarette from earlier in the day. It was slightly bent, but still good. She took it, smiling, and popped it in her mouth. Sirius’s face brightened. 

“I’d rather have accomplices,” he said, smushing a wet kiss to Dorcas’s forehead. She laughed and pushed him away, saying good night as she headed to her dormitory beneath the lake.

Lily went with James and Sirius up the marble staircase, her leather-soled oxfords sliding into the grooves worn into the stone by a thousand years of students as if it were meant to be.


	2. Don't Bring Tomorrow

Dorcas followed the stone staircase down into the bowels of the school, giving the password to the last wall at the end of the last corridor. As it slid aside to reveal her dormitory, she sighed. The air was cool and damp, the sound was muffled. It was dark, and the emerald green sofas and armchairs were lit by banker’s lamps and the diffuse light of silver candelabra. A few students lounged, playing a last round of cards or wizard’s chess before heading to bed. 

Dorcas descended the steps into the common room. She'd never truly felt at home in her own school house, so she headed straight for the dormitory as quick as she could. As she passed the couches, she saw a figure move in her periphery.

"Dorcas," said Cassius, as he stood to address her. "How are you?" 

Dorcas silently cursed her timing as she slowed to a stop just a yard from the door to the girls’ dorms. She smiled at Cassius and shrugged. Cassius had taken off his robes and rolled his sleeves up over his forearms. He put his hands in his pockets and looked at her as if he wanted to say something, eyes wide, mouth open. He looked like an attractive fish.

The last time they’d seen each other, they were careening through space and time via the Floo Network, watching their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor glow like a radioactive alchemical experiment. He hadn’t hesitated when she asked him to go to Hogsmeade, and he’d been the one to pull her out of the Evidence Pensieve. He’d known something was the matter with her before even she knew. She suddenly remembered why he’d been in the Evidence locker that evening. He’d been looking for his father.

But they couldn’t say any of that out loud, not in full hearing of every Slytherin in the castle. They couldn’t talk openly in Slytherin common room.

“I’m going to bed,” Dorcas stammered. She hadn’t realized how abrupt her words were until Cassius’s eyes went wide with surprise, his dark eyebrows shooting up into his gold fringe. They both startled a bit when Cato spoke from his place on the couch, sprawled luxuriously with a book in his hand.

“Looks like Meadowes wants to go with you, Shacklebolt,” smirked Cato. His comment drew titters from his friends. Dorcas and Cassius both looked over to see Mulciber sitting with his feet propped on the coffee table, Avery lounging in a high back armchair, and Snape snickering, leaning against a stone column, lit by the roaring fire. Cath Wilkes sauntered over and perched herself on the arm of Cato’s sofa, her long pale legs stretching out beneath her.

“Don’t be stupid,” chortled Mulciber. “You know Shacklebolt prefers witches.” There was a ripple of nasty, knowing laughter that chilled Dorcas to the bone. She glanced at Cassius, who was looking at her with an apologetic look on his face.

“What about Wilkes,” said Cato, reaching up to smack Cath’s thigh. “Does she do it for you, Shacklebolt? You like them blonde, don’t you? I can off Junius and you’ll have her all to yourself.”

“Only a wizard with a wand as small as yours could think your jokes are funny,” snapped Dorcas. “Tell me, does Ligeia have to cast an _engorgio_ spell when you make it with her?”

Dorcas was pleasantly surprised by the laughter her insult elicited. She tried not to smile as she saw Cassius out of the corner of her eye, chortling into his fist. Cato closed his book with an irritated snap, tossing it onto the coffee table like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Cath, where’s Junius,” he said with an edge in his voice. “Is he cheating on you again? I’ll kill him so you and Shacklebolt can finally be together.”

Dorcas rolled her eyes. Cath sucked her teeth.

“Stop it, Parkinson. Everybody knows you don’t know where your own girlfriend is most of the time. Where is she now, for example?”

“I think we’ve heard enough out of Cato,” said Cassius. He flicked his wand at Cato’s head, and Cato clutched at his throat, coughing mutely as the other students giggled. Cato reached up and pinched Cath’s thigh, and Cath responded by smacking him upside the head to the roaring laughter of the other Slytherins. 

Dorcas edged out of the room while everyone was distracted and made her way up to her dormitory. She opened the heavy wooden door to the coolly familiar room, drawing back heavy green hangings from her ebony four poster. She crawled into bed, pulling her black curls into a poof at the top of her head. 

She wondered how she’d ended up in the same house as these people. Cruel, cold, calculating, and crass, they had no respect for anyone else. They found enjoyment in hurting other people. It was an utterly alien culture to her, and she remembered why she’d spent barely any time in the Slytherin common room in the last six years that she’d been at Hogwarts. It was her last year. It was _her_ year. She felt her chest constrict with the injustice of not being welcomed into the space that was supposed to be her house. She shut her eyes as a hot stray tear fell. She wiped it away, pushing her face into her pillow, willing herself to sleep. She listened to the sound of the lake pushing gently against the dark glass overhead until she drifted off.

* * *

The sun was shining in bright shafts through the tall mullioned windows the next day as Dorcas entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom five minutes before the bell. Professor Wilkes had yet to arrive. Cassius waved to her from a pair of desks near the window, and as Dorcas walked around near the front of the room to sit him, she passed Snape and Mulciber. They were chatting with Ligeia, who was perched on their desks. Ligeia’s shining dark hair hung loosely about her shoulders, and her fine skin shone more beautiful than any marble carved by a master. Dorcas avoided her gaze.

“It’s jolly good luck that Cath’s dad will be the new Defense teacher,” Ligeia was saying haughtily. She studied her nails, her dark hair falling into her face. “The rest of us might actually have to do the coursework.”

“Not so fast,” said Mulciber, leaning back in his chair. “He’ll favor all us Slytherins for sure. He was in our house at school, and a favorite of old Slugger.”

Dorcas put down her bag beside Cassius.

She settled into the seat next to him and turned, just as he sat up straight in his seat and took a deep breath.

“Last night was awful, I’m sorry that happened.”

Dorcas felt taken aback. She opened and closed her mouth several times.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said finally. “Really.”

“I know,” said Cassius. “But I’m still sorry.”

Dorcas let slip a faltering smile before reaching into her bag to pull out her textbook and quills. She looked around at the students milling about noisily before turning back to Cassius.

“And-- this summer,” she said slowly, quietly. She let her eyes meet his. He was looking at her intently. She swallowed.

“I don’t think I thanked you for everything you did,” she said. “For helping us. So thank you.”

Dorcas watched as Cassius smiled and mumbled his way through a "you're welcome," and let his eyes fall for a moment. His eyelashes were thick and dark against his pink cheeks. 

“And did you-- find everything you were looking for,” she asked. Cassius looked up and his mouth opened to answer when the room was suddenly full of the clatter of a dozen students taking their seats, and the classroom door finally slamming shut.

“Take your seats,” said Professor Wilkes as he strode to the front of the room, his dark gray robes whipping behind him. He tapped the board and writing appeared in a neat hand.

“I am Professor Wilkes,” he said. His mustache quivered. His pale eyes cast around the room intently. “Welcome to N.E.W.T. Level Defense Against the Dark Arts, year two. Our aim for this year is to prepare you for the N.E.W.T. subject exam.”

Dorcas looked up. Professor Wilkes had disappeared the desk and was pacing before them. “The average witch or wizard need not necessarily concern themselves with the minutia of Trace Magic, protective theorem, or potion-less camouflage, but for those of you who will go on to work as aurors, healers, counselors in the courts of the Wizengamot, and in other supporting roles in the Ministry, the minutia will be indispensable." He flicked his wand at their desks, which disappeared as well, leaving the students sitting on their chairs.

"Many of you have your sights set on occupations that only consider candidates with top scores of Outstanding and Exceeds Expectations. Expect this final year at Hogwarts to be the hardest you've ever worked. Defense Against the Dark Arts is perhaps the most difficult branch of study as it brings together elements of Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology. Everything you learned in the last five years will be relevant. With that in mind, you'll start by taking a practice exam. You’ll complete the practical in class and the written portion for homework.”

He waved his wand again and the chairs they sat on scooted very fast towards the walls, half the students to one side, half to the other, so that they sat against the walls facing each other on opposite sides of the room. Excitement was barely contained in the chatter that rose up. Wilkes flicked his wand again, releasing a shower of red sparks, causing quiet to fall again.

"You'll begin by performing the _Incarcerous_ spell. You’ll aim at this skeleton.” Wilkes waved his wand and produced a skeleton that hung in midair in the middle of the room, its teeth bared in a frightful grin. Wilkes consulted a roll of parchment that he pulled from his pocket.

“First up is Appleton.”

The ginger-headed girl in Ravenclaw robes stood and made a hearty attempt at casting an _Incarcerous_ spell. The skeleton shuddered on impact and her ropes hung limply around the frame of bones.

“Work on the conviction behind your spell. Remember this is a spell you’d use on a criminal, a perpetrator. You’d get points off in the real exam for this nonsense. Next is Fenwick.”

Appleton slunk away, and Fenwick stepped up, a tall, ruddy, long-faced boy with square shoulders. He stabbed his wand in the direction of the skeleton, and his ropes nearly crushed the ribcage. Wilkes disappeared the ropes as he said, “Good, your ropes are a little tight, you want to loosen your wand arm as you lunge.”

Dorcas watching in utter thrall as Wilkes critiqued each student’s attempt. Dorcas took mental notes with each student. She watched Cassius be praised on the pattern of his ropes and chided on his stance. Mulciber’s ropes missed the skeleton completely, and Parkinson’s were so tight they broke the femurs. 

“We’re trying to incarcerate a criminal, not break his legs.” said Wilkes, repairing the bones with a flick of his wand. Potter’s ropes were nearly perfect, and so were Selwyn’s. Finally, Dorcas was called, and she took a deep breath as she strode to the middle of the room, released her breath through her nose as she planted her feet, bent her knees, and flicked her wand at the skeleton. She exhaled, picturing ropes in her mind as they shot from the end of her wand.

“Well done,” said Wilkes over the snap of the ropes around the skeleton. “Technically perfect, though you’ll have to get used to performing that spell under more unpredictable conditions if you want to be an auror.”

“How did you know I want to be an auror, sir,” asked Dorcas in slight amazement.

“You lot have a type,” he smirked. “A little overeager, a little too serious. But you’ll grow out of it. Shelby, next.” 

Dorcas went back to her seat in a bit of a daze. What did he mean, overeager, too serious? She looked over at Cassius who was watching Shelby’s ropes land on the skeleton in great hanging loops. Wilkes scolded him about irresponsible wand-handling. Snape was the last, and Dorcas grumpily watched as he cast a perfect _Incarcerous_ spell. She’d always thought of herself as quite unique, so to hear that she was like every other overambitious wannabe-auror left her feeling as if a dark cloud had gathered over her head. Cassius asked her if she was feeling alright, and she brushed him off with a half-hearted smile. All she had to do was get through the rest of class, do her best to hide her change in mood from her new teacher as he handed out the written exam, and be the first out the door as he dismissed them from class.

* * *

“He’s horrible,” said Dorcas, slamming her bag down on a table in the Great Hall beside Mary and Lily.

“Who is,” said Lily, not looking up from the parchment she was covering in tiny script.

“Wilkes,” huffed Dorcas. “Right blowhard, thinks he’s so great because he knows a little Defense Magic and hangs out with the Ministry good old boys.” She sat down heavily, taking her essays and textbooks out of her bag and slamming them on the table.

It was early afternoon, and the Great Hall was open for private study, and full of sixth and seventh years pulling their hair out over N.E.W.T. class prep. Across the hall, Dorcas spotted Marlene’s shining blonde hair almost immediately, and a strange feeling arose. She’d been a bit sorry to wave goodbye to Cassius in the Entrance hall as he went back to the dorms, and now she wasn’t sure of her own feelings as she watched Marlene put a pale, long-fingered hand through her short fringe.

“Dorcas,” said Lily, snapping Dorcas out of her guilt-ridden thought-tangent. “Would you mind reading over my essay from this summer?”

“Which one,” said Dorcas. “The one about _datura_ that Professor Sprout set?”

“No,” said Lily, capping her ink and blowing on her parchment to try to dry her ink quickly. “The one about the hearing charm that’s due this afternoon.” As Lily handed her slightly smudged essay to Dorcas, Mary perked up.

“Essay on what?” she asked. Lily turned to her.

“It’s a charm that improves hearing. Can be cast on wizards or on objects. The question was on the ethics of casting the charm on objects that can listen and record information for later retrieval.”

“What’s the incantation,” said Mary. She was getting that single-minded look in her eye. On the other side of the hall, Dorcas saw Cath Wilkes enter. 

“ _Auris Activae_ ,” Lily said, pulling her Charms textbook toward her and opening it to the page about the charm. She pointed to a complicated diagram that had a lot of arrows, and illustrations of a conch shell, a teapot, and a violin. “Here’s the theory.” Mary glanced at it and nodded once.

“Thank you,” she said quickly, gathering her sweater, robes, books and quills. Lily looked at Dorcas who shook her head in a disappointed way. “I think she has to meet her tutor in a minute,” said Dorcas.

“Well, we both know that’s not happening,” said Lily as Mary disappeared through a door at one end of the hall. Cath Wilkes was approaching their table, a cool look on her face.

“Have you lot seen Mary MacDonald? McGonagall assigned me to work with her on a bunch of remedial courses,” she sighed.

“You just missed her,” said Dorcas woodenly, not looking up from Lily’s essay. She heard Cath suck her teeth and turn on her heel, walking quickly away.

“I’m worried Mary will fall into her old pattern of ignoring her coursework,” said Lily in a low voice.

“Maybe school’s just not for her,” said Dorcas.

“Maybe,” Lily agreed, putting her chin in her hand glumly. “Don’t tell her mum that, though.”

Dorcas went through Lily’s essay with her wand and a bit of red ink on the end of her quill, half-listening to the shuffle and thud of parchment and books on the tables around her. The sigh of stressed students rising in the air like a fine mist. The sun moved slowly, casting light onto books, and the white, fluffy clouds passed languidly across the bright blue sky in the enchanted ceiling overhead.

Dorcas handed back Lily’s essay just as Lily withdrew a cigarette from a pack in her knapsack. She popped it unlit between her lips.

“How was it,” she asked, scanning the parchment, pausing at the red.

“Not bad,” said Dorcas. “You should be a writer.”

Dorcas grinned at the sassy look Lily aimed at her.

“What’s happening with the newsletter this year,” said Dorcas.

“Well, I thought this first term we could focus on the recent muggle murders and perhaps push some muggle-wizard solidarity messaging.”

“That’s going to cause some heads to spin. I like it,” said Dorcas gleefully.

“I’ll have to get permission, and access to the printer, from McGonagall. But after that we can have an editorial meeting and get started. We should be up and printing by the time quidditch season starts.”

“Speaking of quidditch,” said a voice behind them. Dorcas started and turned to see Marlene. She was most taken aback by the tender feelings that arose at the sight of Marlene’s blonde tendrils contrasting with the red of her tee shirt.

“Have either of you seen Sirius,” said Marlene, a bit apologetically.

Lily shook her head, while Dorcas looked on dumbly.

“How have you been since getting out of hospital?” said Lily.

“Och, not bad, those healers aren’t all dunderheids like my sister.”

Dorcas let laughter escape through her nose before she could stop herself.

“You alright, Dorcas,” said Marlene.

Dorcas looked up at Marlene, feeling her stomach drop as she met her clear blue eyes. There was earnestness there, maybe a little apology. Dorcas was saved from having to say anything because Sirius threw himself down loudly on the bench across from them, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Marlene, love,” said Sirius, throwing his bag on the table, causing nearby students to jump. “Ensnaring yet more beautiful _bichettes_ into your golden web of lust?”

“Gan, you reprobate,” smirked Marlene. “I was looking for you,” she said.

Sirius leaned forward and batted his eyelashes at her in anticipation.

“So, when are quidditch try-outs,” she said. Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Sorry to be a bore, darling, but you’ll have to find out with the rest of Gryffindor tower when I post date and time on the notice board.”

Marlene threw him a half-hearted sour look and muttered, “Tadger,” under her breath with a half-smile before walking away. Sirius leaned in towards Dorcas and Lily, speaking in an exaggerated conspiratorial tone.

“I’m having my Top o’ the Term do, ladies, tonight, be there or be square.”

“Why are you whispering,” Dorcas whispered.

“Well, I don’t want everyone in the hall to come. Inner circle only. Marlene is usually invited, but I thought, since you lot have _parted company_ \--”

“Sirius,” Dorcas cut in, “Marlene can come.”

Sirius sat back, an incredulous look on his face.

“You sure?”

“I am,” said Dorcas, looking directly at him. He let his eyebrows rise slowly into his lush black fringe before submitting.

“Well, if you consent, I’ll invite her,” he said, hoisting his foot up onto the bench so he could prop his arm on his knee in a nonchalant way.

“We’re meeting in the forest, tonight at eleven. Bring contraband.”

“Sirius!” gasped Lily, “You can’t tell me that, I’m Head Girl!”

“I didn’t invite Hogwarts’s Head Girl, I invited Lily Evans,” said Sirius pointedly. 

“What about James?” said Lily.

“James knows when to take off his Head Boy badge, too. You don’t always have to wear it, you know.” With that he sprang upwards off the bench and swept up his things, bouncing away with the potential energy of a Top o’ the Term do to plan. Dorcas looked over at Lily and they exchanged apprehensive looks.

* * *

Dorcas wasn’t sure if she hadn’t made a mistake allowing Sirius to invite Marlene. She studied her reflection, lit by smoking oil lamps, reflected in the dark glass, the only material separating the dormitory from the waters of the Lake. Her long brown legs, in high, dark socks, stuck out from the short skirt she wore under an over-large jumper. Pulling on her robe, she grabbed her contraband contribution-- a bottle of nettle wine nicked from the kitchens-- and, clutching it to her chest, turned to face the door.

After all, Marlene was free to come and go as she liked, just like Dorcas. There should be no reason at all that Marlene shouldn’t be at a party that Dorcas was going to. As if Dorcas were queen of parties and Marlene had been a disobedient subject, banished from the realm. No, Dorcas wasn’t that sort of person. Ligeia Selwyn would do something like that, or Cath Wilkes. Not Dorcas, though. She took a deep breath and headed out the door.

As she made her way down into the common room, where the fires and the lamps cast dim light and deep shadows, she tried hard to keep her eyes trained on the black stone floor, and prayed the common room was empty.

“Dorcas?”

She looked up to see Cassius, setting aside a book he’d been reading, and standing up from his place on the cushy green sofa. She smiled a hello.

“Where are you off to so late?” he asked, amused.

“Nowhere,” she said. “Where is everyone?”

Cassius shrugged. “Most everyone’s in the dorms. I believe Parksinson is either on patrol, or kissing up to Slughorn in his office. Nowhere looks like fun,” he said, nodding to the bottle. His eyes flicked down, to the nettle wine in her arms, then to her legs, and he must have noticed, because he modestly averted his gaze and flushed.

Dorcas thought about it for a moment. Might it work, she thought, to ask Cassius to go with her? He could serve as a sort of social buffer between her and Marlene. He knew the others, after all, had accompanied her and Lily and Alfred to Hogsmeade. He’d proved himself a loyal friend. Accompanying her to a party would be a far less strenuous task than going after a mad witch and their abducted professor.

“Would you like to come,” she said, “to nowhere?”

Cassius brightened. “With you? Absolutely.”

Dorcas watched him throw on his muggle-style jacket, and the two of them made their way quietly out of the common room. If Dorcas just kept him beside her throughout the night, she need not worry that Marlene was present. Perhaps Marlene would even be jealous. The prospect thrilled Dorcas, at the same time that it made her insides rumble guiltily.

As they made their way out of the school and across the grounds, the night air chilled with an autumn breeze, Dorcas watched how Cassius rolled up his sleeves and stuffed his fists in his pockets, wearing the pleasingly odd silhouette that muggles favored, with pieces of clothing that ended at their waists, and ankles and feet protruding awkwardly from the hems of pantlegs instead of robes. It was strange, but Dorcas decided she liked it. 

As they approached the dark edge of the forest, Dorcas felt as if her insides were suddenly coated with hot bubotuber pus. The branches closed over them, and the fullness of the leaves blocked the light from the stars. Cassius lit his wand and Dorcas felt a little better, a little calmer. They followed a narrow path for a while, and Dorcas began to fear she’d led them astray, having somehow misunderstood Sirius’s directions. (“Make sure you keep to the path where the sneezewort grows-- if you leave it, there’s no help for you. After you cross the stream and make a right at the Thestral thicket, go straight. We’ll have a fire going in the yew grove.”) Finally, she could see the flickering of flame among the trees. In a comfortable clearing among the exposed roots of the yew trees, a bonfire was roaring, and grouped around were James, Sirius, Remus, Lily, Alfred, and Marlene. Nearby was a table with a cloth, and spread from one end to the other was a collection of contraband: firewhiskey, cigarettes, assortments of whiz-bangs and tricks from Zonko’s, and lots and lots of chocolate. The mossy clearing was strewn with Zonko’s Imperishable Balloons. They bounced along or floated mildly on the breeze. Above their heads floated several dozen floating candles, paper lanterns, and one muggle-style lamp, its electric cord hanging limply.

Dorcas placed her nettle wine on the table and joined the group. 

Peter was telling them about what he’d learned at his uncle’s second-hand broom shop.

“Yeah, it sounds like what Parkinson did over the summer to your broom, Pads, was an example of really juvenile broom sabotage. If you’d like, I can show you some subtle jinxes that’ll have him confused for weeks.”

“I thought it was illegal to tamper with quidditch brooms,” said Lily, between sips of firewhiskey.

“Aye, it’s illegal _during a quidditch match_ ,” said Marlene, clarifying. “I assume the plan would be to slow up his training, mess with his head.”

“Exactly,” said Peter, rubbing his hands together gleefully. He was the shortest boy of the group, and he seemed lit up, glowing with the light of the fire, and the light of having the attention of all the other boys in the group.

“Come on, tell us about these jinxes, Wormtail,” said James. 

“Alright, well, there’s one that’ll cause his broom to shudder every time he makes a turn. Usually, in a broom, it’s a sign that your velocity charms need readjusting. My uncle is the best in the region for velocity charm realignment…”

Dorcas moved away from the crowd and headed to the table to pour herself a glass of wine. She looked up to see Cassius by her side.

“Not big on brooms, then?” he said.

“Not big on quidditch, at all, really,” Dorcas answered. 

“So what’s your thing,” he asked as Dorcas poured him a glass of wine.

“Well,” Dorcas sneered. “You could ask Wilkes, he seems to know everything about me.”

“Hey now,” said Cassius in a soothing tone. “Don’t take it to heart. He’s bloody smug. You did great today in Defense.”

Dorcas looked over the rim of her wine glass at the group gathered around the fire.

“What if it’s my whole personality? Overachieving auror-wannabe?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Cassius. He laughed into his wine, his smile so infectious that Dorcas couldn’t help laughing too.

“Sorry, my ego is still bruised I think.”

“From this morning?”

“From this summer,” said Dorcas.

“Marlene,” said Cassius knowingly.

“Yeah,” said Dorcas softly.

“Ah,” said Cassius. “So that’s why I’m here.” His golden eyes twinkled darkly.

“I’m sorry,” she winced.

“It’s alright,” he said. “I’m glad to be here no matter what. With you.”

Dorcas looked over at him just as he flashed her a winning grin. 

“I suppose my thing is that I get into trouble,” said Dorcas. 

“How many scars do you have,” said Cassius.

“I have one from falling out of a tree when I was eight,” said Dorcas.

“No way, I have a scar from falling out of a tree, too! My brother pushed me, see,” he said, pulling his sleeve up and showing Dorcas his right elbow. Dorcas pulled up her sleeve and revealed the pale scar on her left forearm. Leaning toward him to look at his scar, Dorcas caught a whiff of a clean scent, like sun-dried linen, and the faint smell of coffee.

The night air was cool and calm, and their yew grove was made all the more comfortable and cozy by the crackle and hiss of the bonfire. Cassius and Dorcas were laughing and sharing stories of their brothers’ antics when Alfred called Cassius over to the fireside. Dorcas reluctantly watched him go, trying not to meet Marlene’s eye. Before she knew it, it was too late, and Marlene was making her way over to where Dorcas stood near the table, nursing her glass of nettle wine.

“Hey,” said Marlene. There was an awkward silence as Dorcas tried not to look Marlene in the eye. Marlene tilted her head to catch it, and was unrelenting.

“Listen,” she said, and Dorcas tried not to roll her eyes with the sheer exhaustion of her own feelings. “Can we talk?”

“I believe you’ve already started,” said Dorcas, her eyes trained on the muggle lamp drifting over their heads. She could practically feel Marlene’s fists curl with frustration.

“You know what,” said Marlene quietly, “I’ve been trying to apologize for weeks--”

“No,” said Dorcas, finally meeting her eyes, nearly losing her resolve in their liquid light. “No, you said sorry in St. Mungo’s, and you tried to speak to me this morning, that’s not the same as trying to apologize for weeks--”

“Well, I’ve been trying to find the words!” said Marlene. “You know what, I want to hear it. Whatever you’ve got to say, I want to hear it! Whatever you’ve been holding in since St. Mungo’s--”

“Fine!” said Dorcas. “Fine, I’ll say it. You’re a selfish git, Marlene, and you treated me like trash at the end. I feel like I’ve been lied to, and you know what, I’m done. I’m knackered, and I deserve better!“

There was an eerie silence in which Dorcas realized that the chatter around the fire had quieted as she and Marlene had gotten louder. Marlene seemed to be trembling with quiet rage. Dorcas fought to swallow her own heartbreak as she raised her chin in defiance. Marlene stepped close.

“If you think he can make you happy,” she said in a dangerous low voice, “love you better, you’re dead wrong.” With that, Marlene turned on her heel and walked away. Dorcas followed her, climbing over the roots of the yew trees.

“I loved you!” shouted Dorcas, choking on the tears finally falling. “And all I got was this lousy apology!”

The only sound was Marlene crashing through the undergrowth, headed back to the castle. It was almost as deafening as Dorcas’s heartbeat. She thought she might have Marlene’s face contorted with rage tattooed on the inside of her eyelids forever. Finally, she climbed back down over the roots, and slid back into the clearing, where Cassius broke away from the group to meet her.

“I think you need something stronger than wine,” he said quietly. Dorcas watched him pour her a shot of firewisky, feeling the wine and the sadness swirl around in her head. He brought it to her, their fingers brushing as she took it, and she swung it back. The heat of it seared her throat, waking her, filling her belly, brightening her vision even. She heard the undergrowth crunch behind her, and she turned, half-expecting Marlene to appear in the firelight, contrition written all over her face. But it was Mary, smiling, holding a great wooden radio in her hands.

“I brought the music, like ye asked, Sirius! Spent all day in the music room experimenting with that hearing charm. Thank you so much, Lily.”

“Mary! Thank _Merlin_ you came!” he cried, Lily raised her hand in welcome, and just like that, the chatter rose once more, and the silence of the forest was lit up with the sound of music on the Wizarding Wireless Network. The songs were old-fashioned Wizard pop from twenty years ago. The radio DJ announced the recognizable songs as they came on. The Nifflettes, the Mermen, songs Dorcas’s mother and father loved to dance to at Christmas. James was the only one who seemed to know all the words. The horrible, heart-clenching feeling of fighting with Marlene had finally subsided somewhat. Dorcas watched quietly from the fireside as Alfred handed Mary a glass of the last of the nettle wine. Sirius whipped the table cloth out from under the contraband and showed them a trick he’d learned at the Leaky Cauldron, and he made the empty wine bottle disappear in the folds of the cloth. He grinned with glee as the others cheered him on, and he grabbed a passing balloon to use as a prop while he made lewd jokes, much to their enjoyment. Remus roared with laughter when Sirius’s lewd balloon joke got away from him-- the balloon tore open, making a hilarious sound somewhere between squealing and flatulence as it zoomed around the clearing. Dorcas watched as if from far away, even as she could feel the warmth of her friends’ arms settle around her. She knew they were trying, and she appreciated their effort. She did her best to smile back as she caught their laughing eyes. 

Sitting down to rest on an exposed, moss-covered tree root, she took a sip of firewhiskey as Sirius sat down next to her, puffing on a cigarette. 

“How are you feeling,” he asked, his words slightly slurred. Dorcas tried to smile.

“Fine,” she said.

“You don’t have to be strong with me. It’s beastly, breaking up,” said Sirius. Dorcas felt the tears rise up again and she turned away. Sirius touched her shoulder, and she turned to find he was offering her his cigarette.

“Go on, take a pull, love. It’ll relax you.”

Dorcas took it between her fingers, placing it between her lips and breathed in. She watched the end light up. She coughed as the smoke rose again from her lips. She handed it back to Sirius, feeling the smoke rise further, to her head. The clearing spun a bit.

“I might never love again,” she said in a whisper. Sirius put his arm around her.

“You’re good, even if you don’t believe it right now. Surprisingly good, for a Slytherin. There was a time when I thought I would be sorted into that illustrious yet tarnished house. I thought that, being who I was, where I'm from, that I was bad. But it’s not all black and white.”

Alfred sighed as he approached, and lowered himself heavily onto the tree root on Dorcas’s other side. She scooched closer to Sirius to make room for Alfred. Smashed between the two of them, she felt safe and warm.

“Blimey, I’m plastered,” said Alfred. Sirius chuckled, and Dorcas smiled.

"Nothing like getting utterly blotto to forget how miserable it is being seventeen," said Sirius from behind his cigarette.

“I think I’m a bit worried about this year,” said Alfred. “I have a bad feeling I can’t shake.”

“That’s just the N.E.W.T.’s talking, Mr. Dean,” said Sirius.

“Well, let’s hope you’re right, Mr. Black. If we can just get through this year, we might be alright.”

The three of them nodded in agreement. Nearer the fire, James was twirling Lily around in time to the music. Remus and Peter and Mary were doing the twist and laughing. Cassius caught Dorcas’s eye from the other side of the fire, winked, and raised his glass. All around them floating candles and lamps flickered as they died. And Dorcas agreed. If they could get through the year, they might be alright. They might get out alive.

“If only everything could just stay the same,” said Alfred, a note of wistfulness making his voice waver. Dorcas took his hand in her’s and squeezed. She took Sirius’s hand with her other, and held tight.

* * *

They trudged back quietly up the slope to the castle, the slivered moon shining a pale light on them. Remus and Sirius led the group, with James and Lily following after. Peter, Alfred, and Mary walked in front of Dorcas and Cassius, who brought up the rear. Up ahead, Dorcas could hear Mary make her plans for the rest of her night. 

“I’ll probably head back to the music room. I applied the hearing charm to a vinyl record and a length of cassette tape. Going to record and see whether I can play it back.”

“That’s excellent news Mary,” said Alfred. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to your dormitory and study?”

“I have all weekend,” said Mary with a smile.

Dorcas briefly noted the warmth emanating from Cassius as he walked by her side in the cool night air. She thought about him idly, in the wake of what Marlene had said. 

“ _If you think he can make you happy…_ ”

“You never answered me,” said Dorcas. Cassius glanced at her in the dark.

“When I asked you if you had found what you were looking for this summer.”

Cassius stopped in the wet grass, and put out a hand to slow Dorcas down. She turned back to look at him. His face had gone flat in the moonlight, serious.

“I did,” he said. “I did find him.”

“Your dad?” said Dorcas. “Well that’s good, isn’t it?”

Cassius shrugged and looked away. Dorcas guessed that it was a difficult subject for him to talk about. She turned to continue their walk up to the castle. The rest of the group had nearly disappeared inside. 

“How old were you when he left?” Dorcas asked. Cassius pushed his fists deeper into his jacket pockets.

“My brother and I were ten. It nearly destroyed Junie. So I knew I had to find him. That’s why I want to be an auror. Aurors find wizards, dark or not.”

Dorcas looked up into Cassius’s eyes. They had gone black in the darkness, and reflected the night sky. 

“So, where is he?” she asked.

Cassius looked back at the castle, where the others had all gone inside, up into their dorms. The lights in the windows were low, making the place look gloomy and abandoned.

“He’s right here,” said Cassius.

Dorcas let her mouth hang open as he turned to continue up the slope.

“But what does _that_ mean?” she said finally, rushing up the slope after him, having finally found her words.

“I mean, he garnered influence in the ministry, and joined the school governors. There’s a big meeting this weekend, here at school, and he arrived this evening while we were all at dinner.”

“Are you going to talk to him?” she asked, a bit flustered.

“I’m not. What I am going to do is keep an eye on my brother. Our dad hurt him, and I won’t let that happen again.”

Dorcas put her hand on Cassius’s arm. They had stopped just short of the castle doors.

“Whatever happens,” she said, “you can count on me.”

Cassius stepped close to her, and Dorcas could smell it again. She closed her eyes briefly. Fresh laundry hanging in the sun, coffee brewing, warmth. Marlene was shorter than her, but Cassius was taller, and it felt as if he might envelope her. She imagined his lips on hers for just a moment, and she breathed in. Then, just as quickly as she’d imagined it, she felt the cool night breeze on her face once more and she opened her eyes. He was gone, and she was left standing alone on the school’s front steps, staring out at the moonlight painting the valleys below and the mountains beyond. It was hard to tell in the pale light of the waning moon, but she thought she could see shadows moving on the shore of the lake shore. Shivering, Dorcas felt as if she might not be the only one still out on the grounds.


	3. The Corpse Collectors

The rain pelting the glass of the high windows beat a steady rhythm as Lily slowly made her way down the marble staircase the next morning. She wiped her clammy palms down her wrinkled corduroy skirt. Her head ached, and she was thankful it was Saturday and that there were no lessons. She was looking forward to a great, brimming cup of coffee and some plain toast to quell the nausea that had reared its ugly head in the aftermath of Sirius’s Top o’ the Term do when she paused in the front hall to observe an odd scene. 

Professor Wilkes stood at the door, arguing with a very pale brown-haired wizard with dark circles under his eyes and a thick brown beard. He looked alarmed and upset. She caught their words briefly as she passed.

“You know I can’t stay for the meeting now,” he hissed.

“If you leave, it will look bad,” said Wilkes quietly. “There won’t be anything I can do for you then.” 

But the other wizard shook his head furiously and pulled at the door, letting in a gust of cold damp air. He disappeared into the gray and driving rain.

Lily cocked her head for a moment, idly wondering what this mysterious glimpse of a conversation was about, before the throbbing in her head made coffee take precedence. She continued on her way into the Great Hall and made straight for Gryffindor table, and the great ornate silver coffee urn at its head.

She poured her cup to the brim and sat down to drink deeply from it, splashing in a healthy helping of cream, just as James sat down beside her with his own great heaping cup and the overpowering scent of broom grease about him.

Lily’s mind immediately flashed to the night before: James’s eyes brightening in the firelight, the warmth of him as he held her close, her hand in his as he spun her around the clearing to the tune of a jaunty, old-fashioned song she didn’t recognize but which sounded vaguely like the pop records that her parents enjoyed before she and Petunia were born. They sounded like songs her father still put on the record-player when he was feeling particularly nostalgic, with swelling string sections, finger-snaps and four-part barber-shop harmonies. 

"Just got back from flying,” said James with an air of self-serious exhaustion. His hair was damp, and he had the distinct look of having just changed into fresh clothes. “I don’t usually have coffee, I prefer a mild cup of tea in the morning.”

Lily couldn’t help but snort at this.

“No you don’t,” she said into her cup without thinking. “You had coffee yesterday morning, and you had at least one cup every day last year.”

Lily raised her head slowly with the grave recognition of her own foot in her mouth and glanced with deep, flushing embarrassment at James, whose eyebrows rose into his black fringe. She felt a brief lurch in her stomach as if she were falling. 

“I-- I just mean that-- Well, it’s not as if-- Marlene told me--” Lily groped for a reason as to why she’d even notice his morning habits. “Never mind,” she finished lamely. James ruffled his wet hair, which gave him an addled look. Lily took a final great gulp of coffee and shoved a plain piece of toast in her mouth.

“Gotta go,” she said through her mouth full of food. The rain seemed to intensify its tattoo against the glass, while the enchanted ceiling roiled with gray clouds.

Lily hurried up the staircase steps, munching on her piece of toast, trying to think of what to do as she took shortcuts and hidden passageways behind painting-lined wall-panels, in the direction of the library. _Should I go to Dumbledore and hand in my badge_ , she thought as she pulled open the library door. She headed to an empty table and put her bag down. She imagined the looks of disappointment on everyone’s faces if she quit. How Dumbledore might shake his head, the crestfallen look on her father’s face when she told him at winter break. But she simply couldn’t continue working beside James. She’d already been persuaded to abandon her Head Girl duties alongside him the night before, and she was barely a week into term. She was already distracted by him. She took out her Advanced Potions textbook and placed it in a pool of lamplight. Its golden glow was comforting in the drafty library, even as the rain tapped insistently on the windows.

She raised her eyes briefly at the sound of a familiar voice. A few tables over, Mary MacDonald was sitting with one hand cradling her temple in painful-looking concentration over a textbook and a length of parchment, the other holding her quill aloft. Cath Wilkes sat across from her, bent forward, tapping her own quill impatiently.

“Look, I don’t want to be making up your tutoring session either,” Cath said exasperatedly. “I haven’t seen Junius since yesterday, and I’m really starting to worry.” Mary simply sighed.

 _Poor Mary_ , thought Lily. _That self-centered Slytherin cares more about her boyfriend than the job she’s been assigned._

Lily breathed her own sigh. She couldn’t abandon her post, not because of some stupid crush that would probably disappear in a fortnight anyway. She closed the textbook in front of her. She needed to take some pressure off, get herself a little breathing room. She knew what to do.

Ten minutes later, Lily was opening the door to the empty Heads’ office and tossing her things on one of the desks. She turned to the chalkboard, where the week’s patrol schedule was posted. She raised her wand, and for nearly every patrol that paired her and James, she flicked it, rearranging the letters so that her name was no longer next to his, but rather, next to someone else’s. She left one patrol untouched, set for the following Saturday night, so that he wouldn’t get too suspicious. Putting a little distance between them would help perhaps. Hopefully this awful crush would burn itself out soon. _Or may Merlin have mercy on my soul,_ she thought.

* * *

On Monday morning, Slughorn opened their first Potions lesson with the practical segment from the N.E.W.T. exam.

“Surprise!” he cried as his students filed into the cool, damp room, looking around at cauldrons steaming and simmering on burners, golden potions in bulbous glass vials, and copies of mock N.E.W.T. exams on their desks.

“Take a seat, take a seat,” said Slughorn quickly, motioning for everyone to get into place, his robes flapping excitedly. He beamed around at them from the front of the room.

“Now, welcome to N.E.W.T. level Potions, year two! We are starting off jumping straight into the deep end with a little pop quiz to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything over the summer. You may recognize these from last term, or perhaps you’ve spotted some of them on the job if you were lucky enough to participate in my summer work placement program!”

Slughorn winked obviously at Lily, who did her best to not recoil.

“You’ll be identifying the six potions in this room by marking down their names and their uses on the diagrams in front of you. Then, you’ll move on to brewing a simple Anodynon Potion, a potion which dulls illness-induced pain. It is essential knowledge for those of you moving on to professions in healing or law enforcement. For homework, you’ll be asked to complete the written portion of the mock N.E.W.T. exam including fifty multiple choice questions and a two-roll essay on the ethics of the use of the _Servus Velle_ potion, known colloquially as the Zombie-Maker! Now, please, get started! You have two hours.”

The morning sun slanted through the round windows at the top of the dungeon wall as the students stood and began to move about the room, inspecting the potions on display, their school robes and N.E.W.T. papers rustling.

Lily took out her quill and ink and began to study the first cauldron. Its liquid simmered clear on the surface, and it smelled vaguely earthy. She took out her notebook and extracted a dry, pressed dog-rose. Pinching one petal, she dipped it carefully into the simmering potion and raised it again-- the half that had touched the liquid had burned clean away, and the petal that remained smoked slightly. Lily tossed it aside and marked the name of the potion she was sure it was. The Draught of Living Death.

Lily moved on to the second potion, a clear golden liquid she was sure was Felix Felicis, it was too easy, really. She marked it down and continued.

The third cauldron was the most popular. Students lingered as they answered their mock exam questions, and some had skipped other cauldrons to sniff at the third. As she neared it, standing behind Dorcas and Alfred, she caught a whiff of something familiar-- grease, and something else more natural, which reminded her of the evergreens of the Forbidden forest. Underneath these strong scents floated something spicy. A hint of clove. 

“Are you smelling this, Alfie? It’s so strong,” said Dorcas, wrinkling her nose. “Does it smell like parchment to you? Coffee?” 

“No,” said Alfred slowly. “Smells like shea butter and something salty, like the ocean. And, er, sweet, like tamarind, I think.”

“I’m getting other smells too. Clean laundry. Pineapple. I hate pineapple. Why would I smell something I hated?”

“Well I don’t think it’s about what you like, it’s about what attracts you, innit? You don’t always know what that is until it’s too late.”

Lily stood over the cauldron, watched the steam rise for a moment and breathed in deeply. The scents were familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She was sure she’d smelled them before, quite recently. She felt her head swim. The potion was very strong. She backed away from it and moved on.

Brewing the Anodynon Potion took up the rest of the time, chopping stalks of wormwood and boneset, crushing ginger and sprinkling leaves of feverfew that floated on the surface before dissolving. After straining and cooling the solution, she bottled it and brought it to Slughorn just as the bell rang, saving her from some mortifying, long-winded conversation about how talented she was, and her potential. 

* * *

The mid-morning sun shone, making the grass on the grounds look warm and inviting as she made her way along the cool stone breezeway. She paused in the sun under an archway, where Remus stood, looking out on the grounds that spread out below them. The pitch was visible from this vantage point, but Remus was instead looking vaguely in the direction of Hagrid’s hut down at the far end of the grounds, where Hagrid was chopping wood. Smoke curled up from his chimney. 

“Alright, Lupin?” she asked. He smiled. 

“Alright,” he said. “I had to patrol alone last night, Meadowes never showed up,” he said.

“Junius never showed?,” Lily asked, confused. She vaguely recalled his name on the schedule for Sunday night. “I suppose it’s not that odd,” she said, thinking of how she and James had had to fill in for Parkinson and Selwyn on their very first night of term. “It seems Slytherins don’t always feel they need to show up for work.”

“Junius had done pretty well last year, as a prefect. This is a bit unusual for him,” said Remus shrugging, kicking absentmindedly at a clod of dirt beneath his shoe.

“Well, I’ll remind the prefects at the next meeting that patrol is mandatory.”

“Not to mention N.E.W.T.s homework is kicking my butt,” said Remus with a laugh. “Wish I could skive off on that.”

“It’s kicking all our butts,” said Lily. “Think Slughorn would give back the Anodynon Potion we just brewed to use on our butts?”

Just then, there came a shout from behind them in the breezeway. 

“Comin’ through!” Remus and Lily had to jump out of the way quickly as Sirius and James charged wildly past, running full-tilt down the green, rocky slope in the direction of the lake.

Lily and Remus exchanged gleeful looks before setting off behind them, laughter rising to the surface as they ran, chasing after their friends.

“Oi!” cried Lily, through breathless laughter. “Stop, in the name of the law!”

“It’s most unbecoming of Head Boys and Quidditch Captains to be running recklessly about the grounds!” Remus grinned.

Lily lost sight of Sirius and James briefly. She and Remus came finally to the rocks by the side of the lake, where they giggled as Sirius and James removed their robes and cast off their bags. It was the logical next step, so she and Remus threw off their own knapsacks, and their robes. Remus took off his shoes. When they looked up, they saw that Sirius and James had stripped almost completely, their bodies shining brown in the sun. 

Lily paused and breathed in sharply. As soon as she realized she was looking at James in his skivvies, she suddenly became aware of her own body, still clothed, and not at all the same kind of body that could strip to knickers and wash in the cool lake under the still-summer heat of the sun in full view of students and teachers. Was she flushed from running, or from looking at James? She glanced at Remus who had removed his jumper. Extending from under his tee-shirt sleeves, his pale arms were criss-crossed white with scars. She watched him touch his arms self-consciously as he eyed Sirius splashing into the lake, his wet knickers clinging to his thighs. Remus swallowed, then cleared his throat as he bent to pick up his jumper, pulling it back on. She looked away as he put his robes back on and picked up his bag. But she glanced back at Sirius and James, swimming and splashing carelessly and joyfully now in the Lake. She wished, in a confused way, to both watch quietly from behind the rock on the shore, and to join without shame or concern for her own body or anyone else’s. 

“Cannonball!”

A flesh-colored streak ran past, who turned out to be Peter, stripping and tripping, his body shining white against the darkness of the waters. 

“Peter, you’re supposed to yell cannonball when you do a cannonball, not when you just run into the lake!” shouted Sirius over Peter’s exaggerated splashing.

Lily and Remus turned sheepishly away from the nearly-naked boys and began to make their way back up the slope when they heard a heart-stopping cry. It multiplied, grew louder, and more frenzied as Lily rushed back to the edge of the water, with Remus at her heels. James, Sirius, and Peter were wading as quick as they could back to shore, splashing wildly, fighting to catch their breath on the pebbly beach.

Peter, dripping wet, pointed to the water wordlessly, eyes wide. Sirius looked ill, doubled over. Lily tossed her bag to the ground and removed her shoes and socks. James, realization dawning in his eyes, moved to block her as she made towards the water.

“Don’t,” he said, dripping wet and almost pleading. “Don’t!” 

Looking around in near-furious confusion, she could see Peter’s shock, Sirius’s eyes widened in terror. James’s face had become ashen with fright. Behind her, Remus looked on curiously.

“It’s a student,” said James, his voice breaking. “We have to tell Dumbledore. We have to go _now_.”

Lily stopped resisting and let him grip her arms in his wide hands as she let the words sink in. For just a moment, as she looked up into his face, dripping and contorted with horror, as the full force of realization hit her. The body of a student had been discovered in the Black Lake. 

* * *

“Go,” said James, grabbing his wand and pants from the pebbled shore. Lily heard his voice as if it were coming from far away. “Go!”

She turned and began to walk away, her feet taking her automatically in the direction of Dumbledore’s office. She was only half-aware that someone had caught up with her at the arch of the breezeway and had fallen into step beside her. 

She couldn’t remember how she’d arrived at Dumbledore’s office. She was aware of the coolness of the corridor, how it contrasted with the heat of the sun. How oddly calm everything seemed to be, even as some part of her was sure she’d been caught in the middle of something much bigger than she could ever imagine.

“Junius Meadowes,” said James. His voice rang clear as a bell. Lily breathed in as her senses came rushing back all at once.

She came to fully realize where she was. The sun streamed in brightly. The faces of the former headmasters frowned or clucked their tongues in dismay and concern. Dumbledore himself moved swiftly about the room, conjuring a patronus shaped like a phoenix that split into four and sped away in different directions, and he penned a short missive and tied it to Fawkes’s leg. Lily was taken aback as Fawkes took flight-- the air left the room as Fawkes’s scarlet, gold, and orange wings opened fully and caught the light, as if the whole room had caught fire. Lily found a chair and sat down.

“Are you alright?”

James was looking at her steadily, his brows knitted. Lily felt a bit stronger just looking directly at him. 

“Yes,” she said, a bit surprised by the sound of her own voice. “I will be.”

“Come on,” he said, turning to leave. “We’ve got a lot to do.”

Lily let him lead the way out of Dumbledore’s office and listened as he spoke. His voice seemed to be clearer than anything she’d heard in a long time.

“I can go to the Heads’ office and send out the notice like Dumbledore asked,” said James. “I can meet you in the common room after that, once you’ve put up the notice. We’ll go down to the Great Hall together.”

Lily shook her head, feeling a bit woozy.

“Wait,” she said. “Start from the beginning. What am I supposed to do in the common room?”

“Did you hear anything that Dumbledore said?”

Lily hesitated. 

“I’m sorry,” she said.

James sighed. He looked as if he was about to let his frustration get the better of him, but he took a deep breath and said calmly, “Don’t be. It’s alright, it’s all happening very fast. Essentially, he needs us to call an emergency Prefect meeting. He also needs us to help get the students into the Great Hall. He’s going to address the students. He’s already sent messages to the heads of houses, and there’ll be an announcement any moment now.”

“What should the notice say?”

“That classes are cancelled for the day and that all students are to remain in their common rooms until further notice.”

“What about his brother? And his girlfriend?” said Lily.

“Slughorn is most likely pulling them aside now.”

Just as James spoke, a magically amplified voice rang out, echoing through the halls, and over the grounds. It sounded like McGonagall.

“ _Attention. Attention. All students, faculty, and staff are to proceed immediately to the Great Hall where Professor Dumbledore will deliver an urgent address. That is all_.”

Lily looked at James, who, despite his calm demeanor in the face of it all, looked very worried, even frightened. Lily took a deep steadying breath. 

“I’ll go to the common rooms to pin the notice, and make sure I can find everyone I can. I’ll meet you up there, and we’ll go down together.”

James seemed to relax a bit as she spoke. He even managed a bit of a smile. Lily reached out before she could stop herself, and squeezed his hand before turning and walking away in the direction of Gryffindor tower.

* * *

The noise of the chatter in the Great Hall was deafening. Everyone was present. Hagrid stood shifting his weight from one foot to the other near the dais where the professors sat at empty tables facing the students. There hadn’t been an occasion in student body memory of such an irregular address, and the speculation was rampant. Lily heard snatches of rumors that were flying around faster than Fawkes ever could.

“I heard a student blew up a prefect bathroom this morning--”

“That’s ludicrous, we would have heard the explosion--”

“Well, I heard a teacher tested positive for Dragon pox, it’s going around you know--”

“Well if it spread so easily, then why are they all in this room, stupid?”

Lily scanned the Slytherin table. She could see Dorcas, but James had been right about Slughorn, who stood looking grim at the front of the Hall. Cassius and Cath were nowhere to be found among the students, and were most certainly tucked away in his little office with only tea, biscuits, and each other for comfort.

The Great Hall fell into an expectant hush as Dumbledore stood at the podium.

“Students,” he said in a booming voice. “Faculty, and Staff. Your presence today is most appreciated, as I must now fulfill a part of my duty as Headmaster that I had most sincerely wished I would never have to do.

“The body of a student was found on the grounds today.”

At this pronouncement, a rush of whispers arose that were quieted at once with a subtle gesture from Professor Dumbledore.

“The student was Junius Meadowes, a seventh year student from Slytherin house. To give the students time to process this information, and out of respect for your fellow classmate, classes have been cancelled for the day. All students are to return to their dormitories and are ordered to stay there until further notice.” 

The whispers cascaded into full-blown chatter. Students had questions, they were in shock, and they were curious, and upset as Lily and James herded them out of the Great Hall again and back to their dormitories.

* * *

Lily was in meetings for what seemed like hours. Twenty minutes with the heads of houses to discuss emergency protocols. Thirty minutes with McGonagall and Dumbledore. Forty minutes with the prefects to reiterate those emergency protocols. Information was being disseminated down the line of command. The house-elves in the kitchens were informed of the day’s directive, that lunch and dinner would be served in the common rooms, buffet style. Madame Pomfrey had been instructed to work with Professor Sprout to brew extra batches of Calming Draughts and Sleeping Potions, and to be at the ready for complaints not only of the body but of the mind. 

With things to do, Lily felt strangely calm. The initial fog that had clouded her brain on first hearing the news had cleared after speaking with James, and she found she could focus on McGonagall’s voice and the forms in front of her. She found she could think straight if she had something tangible in front of her. A piece of paper. A quill. Something, anything, to hold onto with her hands. 

Heading from one meeting to another, her arms full of parchment forms and notices, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye, outside on the grounds. She glanced through the east wing corridor window. On the lawn, wizards in white robes, holding clipboards, were speaking with Professor Dumbledore. As she watched, several more wizards, their wands aimed at a large, swaddled object, keeping it aloft, approached. Lily’s breath caught in her throat. Junius’s body was shrouded in that white cloth. She thought briefly of the white sheets she’d gripped with white-knuckled fists almost two years prior, in a muggle hospital many miles away. How white seemed to her to be more the color of death than black ever could be. She pulled away from the window quickly, shaking herself mentally as she continued down the corridor. 

In the Heads’ office, Lily stopped short at the sight of James’s hunched shoulders, his hand held to his mouth, staring down at a letter, while a barn owl peered up at him curiously from its perch on the back of a chair.

“James,” she said softly. He looked up, and Lily was surprised to see that his eyes were red. He wiped at his face quickly and stuffed his letter in his pocket.

“Are you alright,” she said. He nodded, sniffling as he dug a treat out of his other pocket to hand to the owl, which flapped its great wings and soared out through the open window. James closed it with a click before turning back to Lily, his face stony and unreadable.

“Are those from the meeting?” he asked, indicating the paperwork in her arms. She nodded. He looked upset, most likely because of the morning’s grim discovery. She wanted to talk to someone, anyone, about it. She took a deep, steadying breath. 

“Did you see them? Out on the grounds this afternoon?” said Lily. James looked confused. 

“The wizards in white,” said Lily. James sighed.

“The Corpse Collectors,” said James. His tone was so falsely light. Lily shook her head; she didn’t recognize the name.

“The-- the what?”

“The Corpse Collectors,” James repeated. He leaned back on the desk. “Really crude name for the St. Mungo’s Mortuary Department.”

“Oh…” said Lily slowly. James heaved a sigh.

“It’s their job to come get the bodies of wizards and witches who have died,” he explained. James’s face went dark, as if a cloud had passed over. “They inspect them, and prepare them for burial.”

“They were here for Junius,” said Lily slowly. James looked up at her, as if only just realizing that she was in the room. He reached behind him and pulled forward a piece of parchment that he glanced over quickly.  _ He must be really suffering _ , thought Lily. 

“Hey, Evans, did you change the schedule? We were slotted to patrol together every night this week, but I noticed I’d been moved to mealtime duties.”

“I--” Lily didn’t have a good explanation. In fact, she was feeling a bit of whiplash from the sudden change in subject. “I thought perhaps I might shake it up, get to know the other prefects better,” she said.

“But you don’t like most of them,” said James. 

Lily winced at the thought that she might be more transparent than she thought she had been.

“Is it that obvious,” she asked. James nodded resignedly.

“Well, everything’s a bit different now,” he said, thrusting the parchment he held in her direction. “Here’s the new schedule, McGonagall put it together.”

Lily took the parchment he handed her, and looked it over. They would be patrolling together that night, for two hours after the start of curfew. And there was no arguing with her own head of house.

“Well, alright, then,” said Lily. She threw him a reassuring smile, and he responded in kind. She was sure that neither of them felt the least bit reassured by anything. They were both floating in the vast void of space, utterly unmoored but for the gossamer-thin threads that kept them tied to reality: their Headships, their friends, each other.

* * *

Though she had been hoping to put more distance between her and James, she was relieved to have an excuse to get out of the common room. Every Gryffindor student was inside, slurping green soups and munching sadly on roast beef. The atmosphere was dour and hushed. It weighed on her, so it felt good to get on her feet and out into the empty, darkened corridors. As the clock struck nine, James met her outside the portrait hole. The fat lady swung her portrait open, and he stood there, framed by the circular opening, making a funny face as he looked down to adjust the Head Boy badge on the collar of his robes. Lily stepped out and joined him. 

They walked in silence for a little while, taking shortcuts behind panelled walls, tapestries and paintings. The heels of their shoes beat satisfying rhythms as they walked the halls. The night-dark windows reflected and refracted the flickering light of the candles in the sconces. The air itself felt odd, and it was only when Lily caught a glimpse of James’s solemn look in a window reflection that she realized why. James was unusually quiet.

“Alright, Potter,” she said. James seemed to startle slightly, as if he’d forgotten she was there, right beside him. It was strange behavior indeed. Lily cocked her head.

“Alright, yeah,” he mumbled, shifting back into his introspective mood almost immediately. Lily cleared her throat.

“Did you know Junius very well?” she asked softly.

“Sorry?”

“Junius. That’s why you’re upset, isn’t it?” said Lily. Now she was just as confused as he was. 

“I-- it’s not really why I’m upset, but it is very bad, yeah.”

“So--” Lily began.

“It’s nothing.” said James, cutting her off.

“Oh.”

They walked for a little while in silence.

“I feel oddly calm now that I’m over the initial shock," said Lily. "Is that normal? I don’t think it’s normal.”

There was no reaction from James. Lily cleared her throat.

“Did you have the treacle tart they served in the common room this evening? It was rather good. I think it might be my favorite dessert.”

James remained stony-faced. Lily balled her fist, finally at the end of her patience.

“What is the _matter_ , Potter?” Lily asked, stopping in her tracks and throwing up her hands. 

“Never mind,” he snapped. “You wouldn’t understand.” He had stopped as well, though he did not turn back to look at her.

“Try me,” she growled. James turned finally, and they faced each other there, in the empty corridor, in the dim light of the flickering sconces. He clenched his mouth shut, and gave her a dark, frightening look. His hazel eyes bulged, and a muscle popped in his jaw. But Lily stood up to her full height and refused to look away. Finally James broke their stand-off, casting his eyes everywhere but at her as he spoke.

“My dad-- was admitted to St. Mungo’s today. My mum is ill and she’s at home and now my dad is in hospital and it feels like it’s all falling apart very fast and there’s nothing I can do--”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know anything about having a parent in hospital,” said Lily bitterly. “I only lost my mum two years ago.”

James looked at her with a mixture of horror and apology on his face. Lily softened her own expression.

“I just mean,” said Lily, “that in fact, I may know a little something about what you’re going through, and you are welcome to tell me all about it or ask me questions. I’ll admit, watching your mum waste away in a muggle hospital with limited muggle medical science to help her is a bit different from your wizard parents getting sick, but the essential struggle is the same.”

James nodded, still staring at the ground.

“Or, we don’t have to talk about it at all,” said Lily gently. “We never have to speak of it again, if that’s what you want. You can simply go on with your life knowing that you and I might have something in common-- something horrible, unjust, unfortunate, but something all the same.”

“Thanks,” croaked James.

“You’re welcome. Ya git,” she said with a little smile crooking her lips. She punched him lightly on the arm. James finally flicked his gaze toward her, and the side of his mouth went up too.

“We do have something else in common, though, besides our parents,” said James.

“What’s that,” said Lily.

“I think treacle tart might be my favorite dessert, too.”

They continued patrolling in slightly better spirits. Despite the horror of the day’s events, and the sorrow that would color the coming weeks ahead, Lily could at least count on the evenings she was to spend with James, together, working side by side after all, and that her changes to the patrol schedule hadn’t stuck.


	4. How Could I Haunt You

By the following day, the students had gone back to regularly scheduled lessons and their meals in the Great Hall. 

They shuffled through the halls shyly, stifling sudden laughter, covering rogue smiles, as if having too much fun would make the grieving that much worse. The air in the castle was heavy all week with self-consciousness. 

Dorcas had not seen either Cassius Meadowes nor Cath Wilkes the entire week. They were hidden away by the staff and faculty, who went about their lessons ashen-faced and serious. For the end of the week held a chilling prospect: a school-wide memorial to mourn Junius Meadowes.

The doors of the Great Hall were thrown wide. The rafters were hung, not in their customary school and house colors, but in black crepe. The sky outside was reflected in the enchanted ceiling: overcast clouds, though the chill wind stayed howling outside, rattling the panes of ancient glass. The tables had been disappeared, and the students stood to either side of the space in the middle that served as an aisle. 

Dorcas entered with Alfred to one side, and Mary to her other. She wore not her school robes but a brand-new set of mourning robes, black of course, with demure black lace edging. Her mother had sent them as soon as all the parents had received the news. 

Many of the students whose families were thoroughly magical and knew the protocol for such occasions, were dressed similarly. They donned their black mourning robes, some worn plain, especially by those from less well-off families. Those who could afford it wore black robes with minor, subtle embellishments. Potter wore his with silver piping along his lapels, and Black wore his weeds studded with subtle matte beading. 

The students from muggle families wore black jackets and pants with white shirts for the boys, and the girls wore various types of dresses or other combinations. As Dorcas passed the Gryffindors, she spotted Lily in a short black dress with bishop sleeves and white stockings. Marlene sported a black jacket with sleek matching pants. Lupin wore a suit of black wool with wide lapels. Alfred and Mary both wore black muggle clothes, Alfred in a wide-lapelled dark shirt and Mary in a dark plaid skirt.

At the top of the hall hung a giant portrait of Junius Meadowes, encircled by what looked like black roses and sprays of small black flowers. In front of the portrait, beside Slughorn, Wilkes, Dumbledore, and all the other faculty, stood Cath Wilkes, her black robes accented with mousseline de soie. Over her bright blonde curls, which she wore pinned up and back, she wore a heavy black veil. Every so often she lifted a black gloved hand to dab at her face with a white lace handkerchief. Beside her Cassius stood like a Greek column in plainest black, his face as blank as stone. Beside him stood a woman Dorcas did not recognize. She was enrobed in silk and tulle, so that she seemed to float like a black cloud. Her golden hair was pulled up in an elegant chignon, her golden eyes were winged with liquid black, and she wore a black pointy hat with a veil that extended over her face. Her pursed lips were painted dark red. She had to be Mrs. Meadowes, Cassius’s mother.

Dorcas said a quick see-you-later to Alfred and Mary who went to stand with their respective houses while Dorcas went with the Slytherins. When all the students had gathered in the Great Hall, the doors were closed and a hush fell as Dumbledore approached the podium, a hush that was only broken by the occasional sniffles of Cath Wilkes. Dorcas saw Mrs. Meadowes cast a narrow-eyed glance in her direction.

“Thank you for coming. We are gathered here today to remember a fellow student, a star pupil, a caring friend, and a loving son.

“Junius Meadowes left us much too soon. To mourn a life lost so young is also to mourn a future that will never be…”

Dorcas’s attention drifted as she gazed out at the other Slytherin students gathered to say goodbye. Cato and Ligeia stood side by side at the head of the Slytherins, and all the way at the back, Snape, Mulciber, and Avery leaned nonchalantly against the wall under the window. When she’d tuned back in again, Slughorn was talking, and was already in the middle of what sounded like a long-winded panegyric about how far Junius could have gone, all the doors Slughorn had hoped to open for him, how successful he might have been, if only he’d had more time. 

Dorcas had found out about Junius’s death along with nearly everyone else in the Great Hall on Monday. Only Lily, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter had known beforehand. Peter had gotten very good at telling the story of finding the body, as he was asked by nearly all the students to tell it over and over again. He’d taken to bumming cigarettes off Lily, puffing lightly on them, as though this proximity to death had bestowed on him a veil of coolness.

There’d been no official announcement of cause of death. His body had been sent to St. Mungo’s immediately, and was there being inspected and prepared for burial. Without an official announcement, for which everyone waited on tenterhooks, speculation had spread in whispers. People looked the other way when Cassius Meadowes or Cath Wilkes approached, but it was whispered all the same. How had he died? Had it truly been an accident? But who would want to hurt Junius Meadowes, prized pupil, star quidditch player, golden son of a minor Wizarding house of diminished reputation? 

The service ended with a few short, shrill words from Cath Wilkes: “Junius wouldn’t have wanted us to mourn, he would have wanted us to live!” Mrs. Meadowes looked as if she could barely contain the urge to roll her eyes. Cassius still stared stonily straight ahead. 

There was a rising tide of noise as students began to make their way out of the Great Hall again, back toward their dormitories, herded by the head boy and girl, and their heads of houses. 

Dorcas paused in the entrance hall, hoping to say a few kind words to Cassius, whom she hadn’t seen since before they found out about Junius. She looked back through the doors of the hall, toward where they slowly descended from the dais, and her blood ran cold as she caught sight of Junius’s portrait. For a single moment, it seemed as if Cassius’s face was looking down on them, framed by black flowers, eulogies said in his name.

Cath and Cassius approached the entrance hall where Dorcas stood, followed by Mrs. Meadowes and Professor Wilkes.

“It’s so terribly odd that he won’t walk these halls anymore,” Cath said thickly to Cassius as they neared the place where Dorcas stood. Cath laid a gloved hand on his arm. “I’m sure you’ll miss him horribly.”

Behind her, Mrs. Meadowes laid a hand on Cath’s shoulder. A large diamond ring glinted on her finger.

“Don’t touch my son,” she said in a hard voice that echoed in the cavernous space. Mr. Wilkes approached quickly on his daughter’s other side. Cassius stepped aside, his face contorted in an expression of trembling emotion.

“Now, now,” Wilkes said, attempting to de-escalate. “It’s been a trying day, to be sure, but there’s no reason to take it out on Cath,” he said. Mrs. Meadowes spun on her heel.

“Your daughter is the reason my son is dead,” she hissed. “ _My_ son. Your slut of a daughter ruined my son’s life and now he’s _dead_.” 

“Control yourself, ma’am,” said Wilkes, all trace of soothing gone from his voice. It had been replaced by a note of warning. “You’re in public.” Cassius moved closer to his mother, and put his hand almost imperceptibly into his robes pocket.

“Don’t you dare say a word to me,” Mrs. Meadowes snapped, spittle flying as she spoke. Wisps of golden hair escaped her chignon. 

“Your son was a toxic seed,” said Wilkes, his face growing red with suppressed rage. “I can only be thankful that he is no longer around to lead my daughter astray!”

“Are you saying you’re glad my son is dead?” Mrs. Meadowes shrieked as Cassius withdrew his wand.

“Mrs. Meadowes! Mr. Meadowes! Professor Wilkes!” Dumbledore bellowed as he entered the entrance hall from the direction of the Great Hall. Silence fell as everyone looked around to see him standing tall in the doorway, radiating dangerous energy.

Wilkes snorted with disgust. He put his arm around Cath, who was visibly, loudly sobbing, and led her away.

“Come on Cath. Let’s go.”

Mrs. Meadowes put her arm around Cassius, who had put his wand away again. Dorcas was just narrowly able to catch his eye as his mother steered him out the front door. She watched him step out onto the grounds with his mother, into the spitting rain, toward a carriage at the gates that would take them home, where they would both have to do it all again, among their family this time, to lay Junius’s body to rest.

* * *

Dorcas met Alfred in the kitchens for a cup of tea afterwards. 

“This is awful,” said Dorcas, her elbows balanced on her knees. They both sat on the edges of the table in the kitchens that corresponded with Hufflepuff house table in the hall above.

“Yeah, but it’s over,” said Alfred, holding his steaming cup of tea close. “Now that we’ve gotten together, we can all move on.”

“It’s not over for Cassius,” said Dorcas. Alfred gave her a look. “Or Mrs. Meadowes,” she continued. “Or Cath.”

“Well, the rest of us will be alright,” said Alfred. “The rest of us have got to get on with our lives, take the N.E.W.T.s, graduate.”

“Not Junius,” Dorcas muttered.

“What does it matter to you,” said Alfred, a little wearily. “You weren’t close to him.”

Dorcas briefly thought of Cassius, and decided to say nothing.

“I don’t think it was an accident,” said Dorcas slowly. Alfred rolled his eyes.

“Don’t start,” said Alfred, taking a sip of his tea. “How about Slughorn’s eulogy, eh? Just went on and on.”

“Heh, yeah,” said Dorcas. But she couldn’t go back from her words. The more she thought about it, the more she thought there was nothing accidental about Junius’s death. But she knew instinctively that Alfred would not hear a word of it. But she did know who would.

“Come on,” said Dorcas. “Let’s go find the others.”

They went up to the Gryffindor common room, where a weeping Fat Lady, head covered in a black veil, let them in, security having been relaxed while the school was in mourning. Dorcas and Alfred found who they were looking for, folded into cushy armchairs and sofas in front of the fire. Lily, James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Mary.

“The Fat Lady’s a mess,” said Alfred as he sat down on the carpet near the fire, in front of where Sirius sat sprawled in an armchair. On the couch to his left sat James, Remus, and Peter. On the armchair facing Sirius, Lily sat while Mary perched on the arm. Lily reached for Dorcas’s hand as Dorcas took a seat on the floor near them.

“Alfie, she loves us all,” said Mary. “Of course she’s a mess.”

“I’m sure McGonagall doesn’t lose her sense of composure like that,” laughed Alfred bitterly. 

“On the contrary,” said Sirius as he gazed into the fire. “Minnie only cries behind closed doors.” James aimed an open palm at Sirius’s thigh, smacking him lightly with a warning look. Sirius mouthed, “What?” to which James merely shook his head.

“What do you reckon happens now,” said Peter softly, gazing into the fire.

“We go back to class,” said Alfred. “And there will be a quick acknowledgement at the end of term feast, and we’ll all graduate and go on with our lives.”

“That’s a very nice wish,” James muttered almost inaudibly. Mary sighed.

“It’s weird to think it’s over with now,” Peter mumbled.

“I don’t think this is the last we’ll hear of it, actually,” said Dorcas darkly. She felt it in her gut. Something was not sitting right with her. She hugged her knees to her. Alfred made a noise of disgust.

“I don’t think so either,” said Lily. Dorcas looked up at her. Beside her, Mary turned ashen.

“So you agree,” Dorcas asked. Lily nodded.

“It’s been wrapped up too nicely. Something’s wrong.”

“That’s what I thought,” gasped Dorcas. She turned to squeeze Lily’s knee.

“I think something happened to him. Or someone,” said Dorcas. “You didn’t hear the way Professor Wilkes talked about him in the Entrance Hall.”

“I mean, we still don’t know how he died,” said Lily. “Shouldn’t we ought to have had a report by now?”

Dorcas turned again to sit with her back against Lily’s knees and thought about their first days back at school. The last days of Junius Meadowes.

“Cato joked about offing him,” said Dorcas, recalling her first night of term. “I think he has a bit of a thing for Cath Wilkes. You don’t think he would?”

“Oh, come on,” sneered Alfred. Dorcas ignored him and looked up at Lily.

“Cato is a bit impulsive. He can fly into rages and do destructive things,” Lily mused. She raised her eyes and Dorcas followed her gaze. James was looking back at her in a way that suggested he knew what she was talking about. Dorcas thought back to the summer.

“The broom,” she said, remembering. “He was in an awful mood.”

“Yeah,” said Lily. Mary put a hand to her cheek.

“But would he hurt a fellow student,” asked Dorcas. 

“Perhaps he would by accident,” said Lily. “He could have knocked him out with a punch, and Junius could have landed in the lake, and drowned.”

“This is pure speculation, and it’s ridiculous,” Alfred said. Dorcas was on a roll.

“They were friends. It does seem unlikely,” said Dorcas. “Perhaps a rival quidditch player offed him,” said Dorcas.

“Or a rival quidditch team,” said Lily.

“ _That_ is slander,” said James.

“It’s not funny!” Alfred shouted. The others looked down at him in slight shock. Dorcas felt taken aback. 

“Sorry, Alfie,” said Dorcas.

“Not me, you idiots,” he said. He pointed. “It’s Mary.”

Everyone looked back at Mary, who was still perched on the arm of Lily’s chair, silent tears flowing ceaselessly down her face. Lily gasped, grabbing her arm, causing Mary to jerk around with surprise.

“Mary, what is it,” she asked.

Mary simply shook her head, quiet sobs racking her whole body.

“Mary, you can tell us,” said Dorcas, reaching up and taking hold of Mary’s hands. Lily stood and gently guided Mary into the armchair.

They all leaned forward as she sank into the chair. She shut her eyes as tears streamed down. Her mouth was wet with snot as she fought to breathe through her sobs. There was utter silence, except for the awful sound of her crying as they waited to hear what she’d say.

“He did it,” Mary choked. “They all did.”

“Who, Mary,” said Lily gently. Dorcas gripped her knee with concern.

“Junius,” said Mary, finally looking up with red-rimmed eyes, meeting the gaze of each of them in turn. “Parkinson. Avery. Mulciber.”

Dorcas turned and met Lily’s eyes for a moment before looking back at Mary.

Lily cleared her throat, as if she were afraid of the words she was about to say. 

“Do you mean--”

“Fifth year,” said Mary, breathing in shakily. “In fifth year, they were all there.”

Lily and Dorcas exchanged looks of horror before Lily put a calming hand on Mary’s shoulder.

“Peter,” said Lily softly. “Would you mind going to Pomfrey for a Calming Draught?”

Peter nodded and dashed out of the portrait hole. The rest of them, Sirius, Remus, James, and Dorcas, leaned in as Mary told her tale.

“There was a party in one of the dungeons,” she began. “Slytherin had won a really important match against Hufflepuff, so I was there with Alfie and Dorcas. There were a lot of people, and I lost sight of them. We were separated. There was already a lot of firewhiskey being passed around. There wasn’t a professor in sight. And it was quite dark. 

“Mulciber cornered me, led me away. I heard him say, _imperio_. You read that, when you’re under the curse, it’s warm and fuzzy. You’re happy, and willing to do whatever the person tells you, the person who cast the curse. But this wasn’t like that. 

“It was like one of those dreams, you know, one of those nightmares, when you’re trying to fight back, but it feels like you’re underwater. You can’t move fast enough. You want to lift your arms, punch out, kick, but your limbs don’t obey your mind. Your head is full of fog. You try to scream, but nothing comes out of your mouth. You can feel yourself crying, or trying to cry, and you can’t stop, but you also haven’t started. That feeling in your chest, that’s terror. Like something heavy is on top of it.”

Dorcas squeezed Mary’s hands hard. Mary glanced down with a look of gratitude, and kept on.

“I remember their faces,” she said. “Though I don’t recall what they were saying. They were laughing. They made me get on my knees…

“Oh, Mary,” Lily breathed, her hand over her mouth, silent tears now running down her face. Dorcas swallowed. She thought she was going to be ill.

“But I broke it,” said Mary. “A little voice in my head said _Get out!_ Again and again I heard a little voice say, _Get out!_ So I finally ripped myself out from under the spell and I ran away. They continued laughing. I ran all the way out of the dungeons, all the way up the staircase, all the way to the common room. The door that usually asks for a riddle didn’t ask me anything, it simply opened. I felt awful. Dirty, like I’d done something wrong--”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, my love,” said Lily, squeezing Mary’s shoulder. A few stray tears fell again as Mary breathed deeply. She seemed almost calm now.

“So you see why I haven’t said anything until now,” said Mary. “I felt humiliated. I was ashamed. But now, with the whole school remembering Junius as some sort of saint--”

“Yeah, that must have felt like utter shite,” James spat, a look of total disdain twisting his features. Sirius and Remus nodded solemnly. Peter entered once more, holding a brimming silver goblet that smelled like a cup of chamomile tea sweetened with honey.

“Pomfrey says you’re to see her as soon as you’re ready,” said Peter. “She only let me bring this to you this one time.”

“Thank you,” said Mary, taking the goblet.

“That’ll put you right to sleep,” said Lily. “Best get you up stairs, I’m sure you’re knackered.”

Lily took the goblet from Mary and led her up the stairs. Dorcas turned, letting out a deep breath she felt she’d been holding in the entire time Mary was talking. She walked over to a window, where the afternoon sky was so overcast that it was growing dark early. Movement in the grounds below caught her eye.

“Who’s that?” she said, trying to discern the faces of the faraway figures. They were walking up the path to the school. One was unmistakably Dumbledore, still in black velvet robes. Beside him, a wizard Dorcas recognized immediately.

“Oh,” she breathed. “That’s my brother.”

She felt James, Sirius, Remus and Peter gather around her to look through the window.

“But who’s that, the third one,” said Dorcas.

“That looks like Dearborn,” said James. “He was always coming down to the wizengamot from the auror office to speak to counsel and whatnot.”

“Aurors,” Remus whispered. “That’s not good.”

Dorcas felt a little thrill, though she said nothing. She’d been right. There was more to this than the adults were letting on. 


	5. Wild Women Don’t Get the Blues

_ Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. The sound echoes down the corridor. Mint-green walls, white linoleum floors, the sound of her oxfords echoing as she walks. She’s been here before, she knows she has. The fluorescent light shimmers, makes everything glow. She’s walking toward the end of the corridor, where light bursts from a doorway on the right. The sound grows in volume, the steady rhythmic beeping grows louder as she nears. She walks in… _

_ In the flood of light, she pauses. As her eyes adjust, she can see them. Her sister, light hair tied back, her father, his back to her, both of them leaning over the lifeless shape in the hospital bed. All around them bits of cumbrous machinery beeps and blinks, gauges and pumps whir and huff, wires and tubes coil throughout. Lily breathes in as she approaches the bed.  _

_ There, her thin hands grasped by Lily’s father and sister, her mother. Her face is obscured by an oxygen mask, her eyes shut to the world. Her body has wasted away. These are her last moments. The white of the hospital bed sheets reflects the blinding light. _

_ Lily can hardly believe this fading figure in the bed is the same woman as her mother. She recalls her like a super-8 film. How the sun flashed over her smiling face, how she swung her little daughter in the air, how her full-throated voice sang with ease, better than a songbird’s. How could her mother, more alive than life itself, be this same person in the hospital bed, whose life is leaving her body faster than any of them had counted on, faster than anyone, even the doctors, but especially Lily, could stop it? _

_ The lights blink faster, and the beeping speeds up until it becomes one long shrill tone.  _ Not again _ , Lily thinks, and she backs away as Petunia stands, growing larger and larger until she looms over Lily, many meters taller than should be possible. _

_ DO SOMETHING, she cries. MAKE IT STOP! Her face is contorting with spitting rage. Nurses in white swarm the white room, drawing the white curtains. Their father disappears behind them.  _

_ Lily tries to think of a spell that would bring her mother back but she draws a blank, as if she’d never gone to school for magic at all. She shakes her head as Petunia cries out. Lily can’t see her mother or father anymore. She reaches for her wand in a moment of desperation, grasps it in her pocket, pulls it out-- and finds there’s nothing in her hand. _

_ No, Lily weeps. NO! NO-- _

Lily opened her eyes, gasping. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her hands grasped the red coverlet, and the wind rattled and howled at the window panes. Through a gap in the hangings she could see the day was gray. She threw herself over the side of her bed, reaching for her bedside table, where she grasped what she’d been looking for. Her wand, willow, ten and a quarter inches, unicorn hair core. She breathed a deep sigh of relief as her fingers relaxed around it. She rolled it through her fingers, studying it in the dim morning light. It was covered in fingerprints, and had a bit of greasy sheen to it. She absentmindedly pinched a corner of her coverlet and wiped at it, causing sparks to fly. She stopped, not wanting to accidentally set fire to her hangings. She pressed the heel of her palm against one eye and released a whoosh of air through loose lips. 

“Was it the dream again,” someone said on the other side of the room. Lily pushed her hangings aside. Marlene stood by her own bed on the other side of the room, wearing a white undershirt, rolling her red quidditch jersey up over her arms.

“Haven’t heard you say ‘no,’ like that in your sleep in a little while,” she said. She pulled her blonde hair back into a ponytail. Lily picked up her wand and fingered it absent-mindedly.

“I need a cup of coffee,” Lily mumbled sleepily. She stumbled out of bed and walked over to her trunk, where she dug through it, pulling out her wrinkled uniform and throwing it on in a distracted daze.

A week had passed since the memorial. The atmosphere in the whole school seemed almost ordinary for the time of year. Cassius Meadowes had returned to school, the autumn was settling in, and the trees outside the windows were beginning to change their colors. The wind was picking up, blowing in cold from the north, and the sky was getting less and less blue, and more and more gray. The students gathering in the Great Hall for breakfast were in their uniforms. Some were bedraggled like Lily, and some were freshened up and ready to take on the day. The coffee poured steaming out of the silver urns, the very smell of it waking Lily up enough to notice that the black banners still hung from the rafters. They’d probably stay up a little while longer. They added a bit to the autumnal gloom. 

The blustery wind was more noticeable out on the grounds. It finished the job of waking Lily as she strode over to the greenhouses along with the rest of her classmates, and by the time her morning lessons had ended, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror and noticed the wind had put color back in her cheeks, and added volume to her hair. 

Lily found Mary at lunch and they ate egg salad sandwiches stuffed with crisps. Lily watched her closely. She seemed quieter than usual, but not altogether out of sorts.

“How are your extra lessons, Mary,” said Lily.

“They’re on hold, as Cath hasn’t been feeling her best,” Mary responded in a low voice. She picked a crisp out of her sandwich and popped it in her mouth. Lily swallowed.

“And have you been to speak to Madame Pomfrey?”

“Aye,” Mary responded in a flat tone. “Saw her this morning. We talked about the service.”

“Oh,” said Lily, beaming a smile in Mary’s direction. “And how was that?”

“I cried a wee bit and she gave me calming draught in a shotglass to help me get through the rest of the day.”

“I’m sorry, Mary,” Lily sighed. She really did feel sorry. Mary was already struggling enough with lessons, and to add this on top of it all in her last year at school seemed altogether unfair. Lily internally doused an ember of irrational rage at the universe for putting this all on her friend.

“I’m getting on,” said Mary, shrugging her shoulders. Lily detected a note of sadness and resignation and did not press her further. 

“Come to Gryffindor tower later, after lessons, and we’ll listen to records. I’ll put on ABBA for you.”

“Really?” said Mary, brightening. “But ye hate ABBA?”

“Not if it’ll make you happy,” said Lily, grinning through a mouthful of egg salad. “Some days all I want to do is listen to X-Ray Spex, but I’ll make an exception for you.” 

She glanced up when a pair of wizards entered the Great Hall. She watched them stride up the center aisle to the faculty tables at the top of the hall. They bent close to Professor Dumbledore and spoke in whispers.

“That's Dorcas’s brother,” said Lily, noticing the tall wizard in dark robes, his broad-tipped nose and wide dark eyes a perfect echo of Dorcas’s own.

“Aye,” said Mary. “And I heard from her that Dearborn is the other wizard. The one with the thin face.”

“Oh, yes, he does have a thin face. What are aurors doing here, do you think?” said Lily.

“Well it must have to do with--” Mary stopped and looked down at her sandwich. Lily knew how the sentence was supposed to end. She said nothing. She began to gather up her things. She didn’t like how the air had suddenly changed. A bad feeling rolled sickly in her gut.

“Come on,” she said. “We’ll go spend the rest of lunch in the printing studio.”

“Oh, did McGonagall give you a key,” said Mary, still slowly finishing her sandwich. 

“Yes,” said Lily, now feeling a bit impatient. “It’s on the fourth floor now, close to the Charms classroom.”

“Grand,” said Mary. She had begun to slowly gather things, but was moving too slow for Lily, who tapped her foot a bit impatiently, her eyes on the front door. Dorcas and Cassius had just entered and were headed towards Slytherin table. Lily felt her stomach lurch as she looked back at the faculty table. Kingsley and Dearborn were watching Dorcas and Cassius take their seats at Slytherin table. Kingsley at least seemed a bit hesitant, but he shared a glance with Dearborn, and a brief nod, and Lily was in a hurry to get Mary out of the Great Hall.

“Come on,” said Lily, taking Mary by the shoulders and steering her towards the door. Just as they turned, they heard a shout, and they looked back.

“What are you doing! No!” Dorcas cried. Her brother and Dearborn had descended on their table and each grasped Cassius by shoulders. Mary had turned and was watching, rooted to the spot. Lily put a soothing hand on her arm as they watched the aurors take Cassius Meadowes away, while Dorcas shouted his name, drowning out the whispers that rippled across the hall. Her cry echoed up to the rafters.

“Miss Evans.”  Lily recognized the clipped Scottish brogue before she turned to see Professor McGonagall standing behind her.

“Please come with me.”

Lily turned to give Mary’s arm a final squeeze. Mary threw her a small smile in return. Lily followed Professor McGonagall out of the Hall and up to her office. She was not surprised to see James waiting for them. They stood together on one side of the desk as McGonagall took a seat in her leatherback chair.

“Thank you for coming to my office on such short notice,” she said, pulling her glasses down over her nose to look at them. “I have the unfortunate duty of informing you that an investigation by the Auror Office has been launched. As of this moment, all extracurricular activities have been suspended.”

James and Lily both opened their mouths simultaneously, but McGonagall cut them off.

“Yes, that includes quidditch, Mr. Potter, and your newsletter, Miss Evans.”

Lily felt herself deflate like a balloon.

“But, are you sure they have to be cancelled in order to make way for the investigation? They’re unrelated, I’m sure the students won’t be in the aurors’ way--” said James, urgently grasping at the last bits of normalcy that were quickly slipping away from him and from every student in the school.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Potter, it is not up to me. This is an order coming down directly from the Board of Governors, and from the Auror Office itself. It’s bad enough a student’s death should occur during the governors' biennial plenary conference. I should think they’d rather the investigation wrap up as soon as possible.”

Lily held her hands behind her back to hide their shaking.

“Professor, does this mean that the results have come back from the mortuary department at St. Mungo’s?”

Professor McGonagall sighed and removed her glasses. She looked rather weary and sad. She paused before speaking again in a low voice.

“The information I’m about to tell you must not leave this room. You have a responsibility as the school’s Head Boy and Girl to maintain order among the students, and this will surely cause unrest.”

Professor McGonagall paused and let her gaze rest first on Lily, then on James.

“The decision made by St. Mungo’s Mortuary Department is that Mr. Meadowes did not die by accident. Their examination revealed that he suffered trauma to the head before-- before--”

McGonagall stopped talking abruptly. She reached into her robes and pulled out a tartan handkerchief, which she used to dab at her eyes as she sniffed.

“Please, Mr. Potter, Miss Evans,” she said a bit thickly, “If you could keep this to yourselves. It will come out eventually--”

“So the aurors think Cassius killed his own brother, is that why they took him away today?!” Lily gasped. She could feel her heart rate speed up, her face flush.

“Unfortunately, I am not privy to the reasoning behind Auror operations,” said Professor McGonagall, as she folded her handkerchief and stowed it away in her robes. “At this time, I must ask you both to see to it that the students are alerted to the changes, and that order is maintained when news of the investigation does come out.”

Lily couldn’t help it. She looked at James, as if trying to find some form of reassurance-- that it wasn’t right, that it wasn’t fair, that they should fight back. He turned at that moment to look at her, as if looking for the same answers. She knew then that she could only do what was being asked of her. At least James would be beside her, and this was a comforting thought.

“Alright,” she said. “We’ll post the notices and keep the students calm.”

“Thank you,” said Professor McGonagall. “You may go.”

Lily turned and walked, James beside her, out the door, and they made their way up to Gryffindor tower.

As they waited for a moving staircase to connect them to the upper floors, James made a grunt of disgust.

“This is bad,” he growled. “We need quidditch as an outlet. There’s going to be so many duels and fistfights in the corridors, and it’s going to be us and the prefects breaking them up.”

“You had duels and fistfights even when you had quidditch, I doubt it’ll make much of a difference.” Lily grumbled bitterly. She had no patience for James’s shallow bullshit.

She felt herself walking as if from far away.  _ I must still be in shock _ , she thought, as if a part of her were watching from above, watching someone else move robotically about the castle, going through the motions of being a Head Girl, being a student, being a teenage girl. Beside her, James fumed, his fists balling, his gaze focused with pinpoint-focused rage on the stone floor in front of him.

* * *

“It’s tyranny! A travesty!”

Sirius had stepped up onto a bench in the courtyard where James, Remus, Peter, Lily, and Dorcas had all gathered. He was making a rather impassioned speech against the ban on extracurriculars.

“We must fight for our right to quidditch! Who’s with me?!”

Dorcas and Lily pulled at his robes to get him down from the bench before he made a fool of himself. Out of the corner of Lily’s eye, she could see Ligeia and Marlene in another corner of the courtyard, looking uniquely glum and dour, sharing concerned whispers. Lily only noticed them because Dorcas kept throwing furtive glances their way. The ivy vines shuddered with the chill wind that rushed through.

“Get down, you idiot. There’s no protesting our way out of this one, it’s out of our hands,” said James. Sirius pouted, but he stepped down from the bench and threw himself down beside James.

“You’re Head Boy,  _ and  _ Gryffindor chaser. I’m Captain! We can’t just give up now!” said Sirius.

“Sorry a  _ murder investigation _ got in the way of your quidditch season,” Lily bit back.

“So it’s true,” said Dorcas, gazing around the courtyard which was criss-crossed by students on their way to lessons, stone benches dotted with upper-years spending their free periods reading in the last of the autumn warmth, and lower years still getting the hang of navigating the castle. “Hogwarts is now a crime scene.”

“Essentially,” Lily sighed. 

“Who do you think did it,” Peter asked, wringing his hands. The leak about the investigation had changed the way Peter felt about finding Junius’s body in the Lake. His brush with death was no longer cool. It was now part of something much more sinister. “Do you think they will bring me in as some class of accomplice?” he had asked shortly after Cassius had been taken by the aurors at lunch. Remus had shaken his head, Sirius had rolled his eyes. “You won’t be arrested, Wormtail,” James had said in a softly reassuring voice. Lily had watched the conversation from her seat next to James in the Great Hall, her brow furrowed with worry.

“Suppose Cath had done it,” said James.

“You’re imaginative,” Lily scoffed.

“Hang on,” said Dorcas. “She’s been moping and crying all over the castle for weeks now. It  _ would _ be a good cover. The  _ grieving girlfriend _ .”

“That’s going a bit far,” Lily said, frowning.

“It’s what I’ve heard whispered in the corners of Slytherin’s own common room,” said Dorcas. “That, or that Cato did it.”

“Cato’s much more likely to have done it,” said Lily. “He’s an awful brute.”

Dorcas’s face lit up with realization.

“Now that I think about it, I reckon he actually fancies Cath. That would give him a motive.”

“He doesn’t just fancy Cath,” Sirius drawled. “They dated.”

“ _ What _ ?” said Dorcas and Lily in unison.

“The summer before fifth year. They got together briefly at the Mulciber wedding. It didn’t last long. Cath dumped him, and Cato assuaged his grief with Ligeia, and they’ve been together ever since.”

“Blimey,” breathed James. “What a load of pureblood bollocks drama I didn’t need to know about.”

“But don’t you see?” Dorcas said, vibrating with energy. “He’s got a motive. Put him on the list.”

“What list,” said James. “There is no list.”

“Oh,  _ honestly _ ,” Dorcas sighed, rolling her eyes. “Put him on the  _ proverbial list  _ of  _ suspects _ .”

“People are saying it was Cath’s dad. The teacher,” said Peter. “I heard the rumors in the corridors.”

“Professor Wilkes?” said Lily incredulously.

“That makes sense,” said Dorcas. Everyone looked at her. “You didn’t hear him,” she said. “In his row with Mrs. Meadowes the day of the memorial. He said Junius was a toxic seed, and thankful he was no longer around. It was awful.”

“Well,” said James. “He wasn’t wrong, apparently. So that’s three suspects so far.”

“Cath, Cato, and Professor Wilkes.” Dorcas numbered them off.

"What's the craic?"

Everyone looked up to see Mary approaching, walking alongside Alfred, who seemed to be carrying her books.

"Er-- nothing," said Dorcas. James and the others wouldn't meet Mary's eye. Mary stiffened. Alfred scoffed.

"Don't tell me, Dorcas-- you're coming up with a list of murder suspects."

Dorcas opened and closed her mouth again. She looked at Alfred imploringly.

"But Alfie! Wouldn't you want to know? Wouldn't you want to solve a mystery that affects all of us--"

"Unlike you, Dorcas, I steer clear of police--"

"These aren't muggle police, they're aurors--" Dorcas whinged.

"Same thing," Alfred spat. He touched Mary's arm and she seemed to loosen.  "C'mon," he said.

"Wait, I'll come with you," Dorcas said, jumping up from her seat.

"I don't want to hear any more," Alfred said. Their bickering voices faded as the three of them wended their way through the courtyard back inside, in the direction of the marble staircase. Lily fingered the cigarette packet in her pocket, thinking of frightening things: Muggle policemen, aurors sweeping their robes down school corridors, the light that shone on the surface of the lake the day they found Junius's body, the blinding whiteness of the hospital bedsheets the day her mother…

"I've gotta go," Lily mumbled. She glanced back at James.

"See you for patrol tonight?" she said, but he didn't look up. He was deep in whispered conversation with Sirius, Remus, and Peter. She felt her stomach flip unpleasantly. She hadn't seen them do this in more than a year now. They looked how they used to, heads together against the world-- back in the days when they were known for wreaking havoc in the corridors, cursing second-years, sneering unpleasantly at her and Snape as they sat on the low stone wall behind the greenhouses-- this was back when they'd earned themselves a nickname, so christened by McGonagall, back when they were known as the Marauders. Back when they played large-scale, chaos-making, sometimes devastating pranks. Lily felt a chill down her spine and turned her back on them. 

* * *

No newsletter. No quidditch. No clubs, no sport, no parties. Just study, patrol, study, patrol. Just news of terror from beyond school gates, and news of murder from within its walls. Nothing to soothe frazzled nerves and broken hearts. What was the point?

"Lily? Lily, I'm talking to you."

Lily looked up. James was looking at her, his face scrunched with annoyance. Around them, portraits dozed, the flames in the wall sconces cast flickering shadows, and all was silent in the castle. It was late, just after curfew. 

"C'mon," James muttered bitterly as he thumbed the Head Boy pin on the lapel of his robes. "As I was saying, we're in East Wing today."

As they walked the empty corridors, peering into dark niches and behind statues and suits of armor, Lily's attention drifted. She felt unmoored in the darkness. What would she do without the newsletter to ground her? What would she do without the calming work of laying out type, proofreading the makeup, supervising the printing? What was her role if it wasn't to show muggleborn students they had a voice in this world too, in this world where their families and communities were unknowingly under constant threat of--

Lily felt her stomach flip as she felt the force of being pulled backwards suddenly, James's large hand gripping her arm.

"Lily! Honestly, where's your head at?"

Lily swallowed. She'd nearly stepped into the gap of the vanishing stair. James had pulled her back in time. She thought she ought to feel relief. Instead she felt like she might cry. No, she was  _ definitely _ going to cry. She felt her eyes well up with tears that she hid quickly by turning away, and she glanced around for an excuse, somewhere to be alone for a minute. The prefects' bathroom was a few meters away. She rushed toward it, jumping over the vanishing step, opening the door with all her strength.

"I'll just be a minute," she called, trying to keep the tears out of her voice as she shut the door behind her. 

In the dark, echoing emptiness of the prefects’ bathroom, she felt the tears she’d been holding back rise up. She felt the sobs she’d been holding in come out, and she could do nothing to stop them. She felt her tears run down her cheeks, stinging her eyes shut, clouding her vision, as she pressed her back to the door and slid down to the cold, stone floor. 

It became harder and harder to breathe. Her chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. She couldn’t get any air in. She gasped and cried, snot running into her mouth. She felt like she might die.

Only it wasn’t how she’d imagined she might die, how she’d watched her mother die, peacefully wasting away, effaced silently, moving through some soundless veil to the pristine Otherplace-- instead, she was panicked, eyes wide and searching, seeing not what was in front of her, but the images at the forefront of her mind: the hospital room, her sister’s distraught face, her father crumpled and crying. Beyond all these images stretched the deep black void of her last year at Hogwarts, of the rest of her life. Nothing, she had nothing. She wept for her nothing, and felt the realization like a blow to the chest that knocked the air out of her lungs: if she had nothing left, then there was no reason to stay. She could pack a bag, knick a broom out of the quidditch broom closet, and leave. But instead of the peaceful feeling such a thought ought to inspire, she felt only fear, only panic. The sound of her sobbing echoed around the empty bath, and she heard it, and it made her more sad, more hopeless. She let herself sink all the way to the floor, pressed her chest against the solid cold stone, pressed her wet, weeping face against it, to feel its chill, to feel something, anything.

As she pressed herself to the floor, she felt a crunching in her pocket. Momentarily distracted-- whatever was crunching was taking her attention away from her own hopelessness-- she sniffed as she reached into her pocket and grasped the crumpled package. A cigarette packet with one cigarette inside. She drew it out shakily, focusing on its thin whiteness, almost glowing in the dark. She put it between her wet lips and fought to speak the spell.

" _In-- incendio_ ," she managed to whisper while her wand shook in her hand, and she conjured a small flame. Breathing in deeply, all images from her mind were erased. There was only smoke. She imagined it going deep into her lungs-- she coughed, almost spat it all out-- it had been a little while since she’d smoked a proper cigarette. But she took another drag. At that moment, it was the only thing keeping her from choking on her own sobs, the only thing keeping her from wanting to move from where she was, to take some sort of irreversible action. She laid there on the floor in the dark room, dim moonlight coming through the trees that pressed against the windows, casting spider-like shadows on the mosaic-tiled walls. She closed her eyes. She took another drag, and another. She felt her heart beating inside her chest more slowly. She felt her breathing return to something like normal. She felt her tears drying on her face. She wiped her sleeve under her nose. Still her eyelashes were wet, and she felt it on her cheeks as she closed her eyes. A gentle knocking on the door seemed to come from far away, even though it was right next to her. 

“Lily,” came James’s muffled voice on the other side of the door. “Are you alright?”

Lily said nothing. She took a deep breath, studied her cigarette. It was nearly at its end. 

“I’m here,” she said softly. James opened the door, and Lily sat up, blinking into the light that spilled from the corridor.

“Mind if I join you,” he said. Lily shrugged. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to him at that moment. He walked past her to the empty pool and climbed down into it. He walked with echoing footsteps into the deep, dark middle, and laid down there.

“Come,” he said from the darkness. Lily stood and climbed down after him, and laid down beside him in the inky middle of the cavernous space. 

“I like it here. I come here alone sometimes, just to think,” he said, the low bass of his voice rumbling in the quiet.

The branches scratched the glass of the windows and their shadows played on the mosaic tiles on the walls. But from the middle of the pool they were enrobed in a velvet quiet, like dreamless sleep. Above, the ceiling was dark, and studded with tiny gems that glittered in the dim light like stars.

“Like the stars that were used by seafarers to find their way home,” James whispered.

Lily felt warmth travel from the center of her, down to her fingertips and her toes. She turned to look at him. His face was shadowed, but he looked back at her. She couldn’t see his expression, but she could feel the warmth of his body pressed against her side. She felt anchored again, but also something else, something more. She felt drawn. As if the orbits they moved in were drawing closer and there was nothing either of them could do to stop it.


	6. Strangers In My House

It was worse than she’d thought. Shortly after Cassius had been taken out of the Great Hall by her own brother and another auror, and just as everyone in the school had found out that Junius’s death was under investigation as a murder, Dorcas herself had been called into Slughorn’s office.

“Where were you the night of September the second?”

Dorcas shielded her eyes with her hands as Dearborn shone his brightly lit wand into her face. As she wet her lips, her mind briefly flashed through fragments of conversations from long ago-- her brother chuckling about interrogating an alleged death eater, her father shaking his head at the overzealous tactics of a fellow auror in pursuit of a dark wizard.

“I was in the castle,” she said calmly, trying to control her breathing.

“Who were you with?”

Dorcas’s mind jumped to that night. Cassius’s face lit by firelight in the forest clearing, off-limits, after-hours, with the head boy and girl present, a prefect, and the Gryffindor quidditch team captain. Dorcas cleared her throat.

“I was with Cassius,” she said. She knew she only needed to say what was true. Dearborn didn’t have to know anymore than that.

“And what were you up to,” asked Dearborn.

“We shared a glass of-- of firewhisky in the common room. Both in Slytherin, him and me,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. If she admitted to some minor wrong-doing, that would put Dearborn at ease, make him feel like she’d confessed something.

“And do you have any knowledge of what happened to Junius Meadowes that night?”

“I do not.” She wasn’t lying about that at least.

“You were with his brother.”

“Well, they’re not joined at the hip,” Dorcas snickered.

Dearborn sighed. Dorcas bit her lip and tried to stop smiling. She had to suppress the nervousness bubbling up under her veneer of calm. Dearborn strode to a paneled wall that he pushed open, and spoke in low tones to someone Dorcas couldn’t see. It was only when she heard the soft bass of the other voice that she knew it was her brother. Dorcas sat up. If he interrogated her, he’d get the whole truth out of her in less than a minute. He was the only one who could.

But he didn’t come out. Dearborn closed the door again.

“You can go,” he said.

Dorcas stood and strode to the door, opening it and looking back once more to the open panel, where she thought she could see the outline of Kingsley’s face and hear Slughorn speaking in hushed, entreating tones. 

Closing Slughorn’s office door behind her, she gazed around the corridor. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to wait there as long as she could to see if Cassius would come out. She wanted to be able to walk back to the common room with him. She thought about her short interrogation, for that was what it was.

By the sound of it, St. Mungo’s had somehow determined Junius had died the night of September 2nd, the same time Dorcas had gone to Sirius’s party in the yew grove. Junius had been out on the grounds as well that night, under the sliver of the moon, and so had his murderer, though she hadn’t seen them. Could it in fact have been Cath? Were her tears all an act? More than one lover’s spat had ended as gruesomely. Or could it have been Cato, the jealous ex-lover? Might it in fact have been a quidditch player in some blind rage over the captainship, or some other competitive nonsense? Or was it Professor Wilkes, in a bid to control his daughter’s choice of boyfriend? 

Dorcas looked up as footsteps approached from the far end of the corridor. The light that shone from the window made the figure a dark silhouette, until he neared, and Dorcas could see that Snape stood before her. He slowed to a stop and sneered at her.

“Waiting for the aurors to release your convict lover, Shacklebolt?” he scoffed. Dorcas instinctively put her hand in her pocket to grip her wand as Snape laughed and continued on his way.

“Careful, wouldn’t want to be caught cursing me in the back right in front of the aurors. They’d never hire you then, would they?”

Dorcas tightened her grip on her wand as Snape walked away, turning at the staircase and disappearing. She heaved a great sigh and leaned against the cool stone wall. Just as Snape disappeared, Sirius appeared, climbing the stairs in the opposite direction. Sirius glanced at Snape’s back, looking like he wished to lob a nice little hex in his direction, but thought better of it. He waved when he saw Dorcas and approached, his hands in his pockets, striking an elegant, long-limbed pose.

“Waiting to speak to Slughorn?” he asked.

“Waiting for the aurors to let Cassius go,” she answered.

“Oh, so they took him in, did they? Quite the bind.”

“It might be alright. They asked what I was doing the night of September 2nd. I think in the end they won’t have the evidence to hold him.” Dorcas glanced at the door as if it might open at any moment. Sirius sighed.

“I hope you’re right. Who did you say you were with?”

Sirius asked this in the most nonchalant tone, but she knew he was fishing to see if she’d told. She held her chin high.

“I said I was with him and that’s all,” she said measuredly.

“Good, jolly good,” said Sirius lightly. “Wouldn’t want to go back to the gulag, as they say, having finished about a thousand detentions just last year.”

Dorcas wanted to ask what he’d served all those detentions for, but he changed the subject.

“The gang and I, we’ve been thinking of Mary and we want to even the score. We’ve come up with a plan to serve Parkinson, Mulciber, Avery, Meadowes, and Snape with some retroactive… consequences for their actions.”

“You lot haven’t pranked in a little while. Why start again? Why now?”

Sirius shrugged. “No quidditch, no activities. What’s a boy, or four boys, to do?”

“Well, it would serve them right,” said Dorcas absentmindedly. “What are you going to do?”

“Can’t tell you. You’ll find out with the rest of them at the Halloween feast later.” Sirius grinned and Dorcas laughed.

“Well if you’re arrested by the aurors too, I’ll do my best to appeal to my brother to have you released,” Dorcas chuckled.

“That’s generous of you.”

Sirius made a gesture of salute and continued on his way, disappearing around the corner. Dorcas was once again alone in the corridor outside Slughorn’s office.

The light passed over the stone, moving slowly with the minutes. Dorcas needed to pee. She looked back at Slughorn’s still shut door and hoped that if she left for just a moment, that she might not miss Cassius’s release. She dashed to the end of the corridor, and up the stairs to the third floor girls’ loo.

As Dorcas finished up in her stall, she heard the door open. She stood very still at the sound of two pairs of shoes tapping on the stone floor and a girl’s wet sniffles. 

“Come now, Cath,” said a smooth, soothing voice. “What’s the matter?”

It was Ligeia’s voice, Dorcas was sure. She stepped lightly and silently onto the toilet seat so her feet wouldn’t be visible under the door and listened closely.

“There’s no one about, see? We have privacy.”

Cath sniffled and hiccoughed.

“It’s awful,” she said. 

“What is, Cath?”

Dorcas bent her head toward the sound of their voices.

“It’s been eight weeks. I thought I was just really stressed out about N.E.W.T.s but… I can feel something now…”

Dorcas frowned, gears turning in her head.

"I'll show soon. My father can't find out. And--"

"Hush now," said Ligeia calmly. 

Dorcas held her breath as the realization dawned on her. It couldn’t be. She heard Ligeia speak in the softest voice.

“It's Junius’s, isn't it?”

“Who else's would it be? He's the only one I've ever been with,” Cath whispered. Her sobs came fully now, rocking and echoing in the nearly empty bathroom. Dorcas put a hand over her mouth to keep her breathing quiet. Such a revelation was beyond anything she could have guessed. 

But time was passing. She might miss Cassius’s release. Dorcas leaned forward, and, in the reflection of one of the mirrors, she could see Ligeia’s dark hair, the black sleeve of her robe encircling Cath, whose blonde head bobbed with hiccuping sobs. Dorcas listened to Ligeia whisper, “It’ll be okay.” It was very unusual. Dorcas didn’t think that Ligeia had it in her to be kind or patient or caring.

After more than ten minutes it seemed that Cath had finally gotten her tears under control. Dorcas could see Ligeia produce a kerchief to dab at Cath’s face.

“Come now,” said Ligeia. “I’ll keep your secret. No one needs to know just yet.”

Their footsteps and Cath’s sniffles echoed as they left the bathroom. Dorcas stepped down from her perch on the toilet seat and breathed in deep. She’d just been witness to an unspeakable secret.

Cath Wilkes was pregnant with Junius’s baby.

Dorcas glanced up at the light that shone in bright shafts through the tall windows. It was late afternoon now. She opened her stall door and dashed out the bathroom and back down the stairs where she crashed to a halt in front of Slughorn’s open office door. Only Slughorn was there, sitting behind his desk. He looked up when Dorcas appeared.

“Miss Shacklebolt? Are you quite alright?”

“Meadowes,” she gasped. “Where is he?”

“The aurors released him not fifteen minutes ago.”

Dorcas cursed under her breath.

“Miss Shacklebolt,” Slughorn chastened.

“Where did he go,” she said quickly.

“In the direction of the main entrance, I believe,” said Slughorn, trailing off as Dorcas dashed down the corridor once again. She flat out ran down the stairs, bursting through tapestries, throwing her full weight against paneled walls, and when she careened around the last corner, the open castle doors and Cassius’s shoulders in sight on the other side of the lawn, she nearly fell when Alfred appeared in her path.

“Dorcas! You’re out.”

Dorcas glanced toward the forest, the direction Cassius had taken. She longed to catch up with him, to find out what Kingsley had asked him.

“Well?” asked Alfred. “Aren’t you relieved it’s over?”

“Er,” Dorcas mumbled. She thought back to the interrogation. “They asked me what I was doing the night of September the second.”

“You didn’t say we were drinking firewhisky in the Forbidden Forest did you, because I swear to God, Dorcas--”

“I didn’t,” said Dorcas quickly. “But it means they think he died that night. While we were out on the grounds.”

“Oh no,” said Alfred. Dorcas glanced up to find Alfred was watching her with a shadowed look on his face. It made her uneasy.

“What is it, Alfie,” she said trying to keep her voice light and airy.

“You're going to look for Junius's murderer?” He said, his voice sounding strange, strained.

Dorcas sighed. 

“I think you should just let the aurors take care of this one,” he said.

“Well, _I'm_ going to be an auror one day--”

“Dorcas, this isn't practice! This isn't even a failed poisoning or a missing teacher, this is a student who was _murdered_ \--”

“And don't we owe it them, to Junius, to Cassius, _our friend_ , if someone knows something, to do something to help--”

“You're not an auror, Dorcas. You're a student. You know, ever since you started spending time with Evans, you've been getting into bigger and bigger scrapes. Trouble sticks to her--”

“You sound like your mum,” said Dorcas bitterly, feeling hurt. She stuck out her chest and put her fists on her hips and sucked her teeth in cruel mockery.

“Don't you-- how dare you?” sputtered Alfred. “Lily's leading you down a dangerous path, and there's nothing at the end but bad news.”

“You're going down the same path, Alfred! We all are! You want to be a reporter, what is it you think they do? They get in the thick of things! They do the right thing--”

Alfred sucked his teeth and turned on his heel with a backward glance at Dorcas, his face contorted with bitter anger. Dorcas felt a wave of frustrated rage as he left. She glanced at the open door where she’d last seen Cassius disappear into the treeline of the Forbidden Forest. She charged out onto the grounds where the autumn wind picked up her robes, chilling her, but she continued, dashing across the grass just as the wind tossed the autumn leaves about her ankles.

Dorcas crashed through the undergrowth in the direction she’d seen Cassius go. She found the path lined with sneezwort, dodged the spines of tall-growing burdock, and nearly tumbled into the clearing in the yew grove where she found him.

Cassius stood, his back to her, the sun shining through the leaves, dappling the light that fell over his dark golden hair, over the crisp white shirt he wore that stretched over his wide shoulders. Dorcas breathed in.

“Cassius,” she said softly.

She stepped toward him. She looked down. His hand hung by his side, loose, open. She reached forward, saw how brown her hand was in contrast to his. She wanted to slip her hand into his palm, but something stopped her. She closed her fist and brought it back to her side. He turned then, and looked down at her as she looked up.

“They released me because you corroborated my story. Said I was with you that night.”

“Yes,” she said. “Because that part’s true.”

“Thank you.”

Cassius stepped closer, and Dorcas’s heart quickened.

“But since they questioned me, everyone will think I did it.”

“Let them,” she said. She wanted to tell him she’d do everything in her power to find the real killer. She watched his golden eyes flick around her face. She regarded him steadily. 

“I’d rather not think about it,” he said. She could feel the whisper of his breath on her face. She swallowed. His brother’s murder was all she could think about. She let a smile ghost over her face, though it faltered under his searching gaze.

“I waited,” she said. 

His eyes flicked downward to where her hands hung at her sides.

“I thought I wanted to be alone,” he said. “But now, I’m not so sure.”

Dorcas raised her hands, slipped them around his waist and clasped them behind his back. He seemed to stiffen as she rested her head against his chest. Slowly, he raised his arms to encircle her in turn, and she felt the gentle weight of his chin come to rest on top of her head. She breathed in deeply as all the encounters of her afternoon faded into the background.

* * *

The students flowed into the Great Hall where Hagrid had set up his giant pumpkins, carved into fearsome shapes and lit from within. Great, spiny, spindly squashes, ranging in colors from black to dark green to orange and yellow, curved outward from their centerpiece placements, and the staff table was strung with black and violet ribbon. Dorcas took a seat at Slytherin table beside Cassius and glanced over at Hufflepuff. She tried to catch his eye, but he was deliberately ignoring her, choosing instead to chat with fellow Hufflepuff Benjy Fenwick. Dorcas glanced around the Hall.

Further along Slytherin table Cath sat with her chin in her hands looking down at her plate full of food. She looked a bit green in the face and clutched her arm around her middle as if she might be sick at any moment. At Ravenclaw table, Mary was turned around in her seat chatting with Lily at Gryffindor table. Beyond Lily sat James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, their heads bent together in a conspiratorial fashion that made Dorcas uneasy. They looked over at Slytherin table again and again, toward where Snape, Parkinson, Avery, and Mulciber sat on Cassius’s other side. Dorcas glanced up at the staff table where her brother and Dearborn sat beside McGonagall, looking very pleased to have been invited to the Halloween feast.

Cassius, noticing her fidgeting, looked over at her.

“What’s the matter?”

“I have a bad feeling,” said Dorcas.

The festiveness of the holiday seemed to have turned the volume up on the usual dinner din. Gathered together to share a huge meal, surrounded by the happy trappings of Halloween, it almost felt as if everything were normal. No dead students, no investigations, no grief, no fear. Except for Cassius and Cath, maybe. Dorcas looked up and met eyes with Lily, who smiled her way. 

The dinner courses vanished and towering dark chocolate cakes took their places, appearing every few feet along the tables. Dorcas picked up a golden cake knife and began to carve into the nearest cake when it happened.

Words, written in pale lilac colored icing, were appearing on the surface. Dorcas looked around and saw that the same pale violet icing was curving itself into words on every cake in the hall. She smiled, thinking it was a lovely charm meant to cheer up the students. She glanced toward Dumbledore who was looking down, nonplussed, at his own cake. She watched as he glanced up, frowning at McGonagall, who looked similarly confused and worried. Dorcas’s smile fell. If it were part of the celebrations, wouldn’t the headmaster and deputy headmistress know about it?

She glanced around the hall again. The tone of the dinner chatter had changed. Surprised gasps and shouts were rising up like mist. Dorcas looked down again to read the words that were slowly forming themselves out of the ribbons of icing.

_Even students can be death eaters…_

_Caledon Mulciber._

Dorcas looked up. Mulciber looked around the hall, fuming, as if he’d find the culprit who’d outed him standing up wearing a great sign that said, “I did it!” Dorcas looked down again to find a new name had appeared underneath Mulciber’s.

_Cuthbert Avery._

Dorcas looked around, her breath catching in her throat. This was no celebratory charm to delight the students. The cake was naming names. 

“What is this?” said Cassius. He was looking at the cake with eyes wide and hard with worry, and glancing at Dorcas as if for answers. Dorcas let her mouth fall open. She had nothing but questions. She looked around again. Now Avery was looking around, genuine fear etched all over his face. Frightened screams had started to erupt from other house tables, sharpening the tension in the air. Professors were standing up from their seats, raising their wands, attempting to restore order.

_Severus…_

Dorcas looked up to see Snape turning red. He stood suddenly and looked daggers straight across the hall. Dorcas followed his gaze and her eyes fell upon them.

James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew were staring back at Snape with steely gazes, their wands drawn. And Dorcas remembered what Sirius had said to her just that afternoon-- a glancing, throwaway comment, quickly forgotten in the rush to catch up with Cassius and the revelation of Cath’s secret. " _W_ _e’ve come up with a plan to serve Parkinson, Mulciber, Avery, Meadowes, and Snape with some retroactive consequences for their actions... You’ll find out with the rest of them at the Halloween feast later..._ ” 

The icing was relentless.

_Severus Snape._

_Cato Parkinson._

Dorcas stood abruptly and took out her wand. She knew what name was next. It was revenge for his part in hurting Mary. It would, at the same time, hurt Cath. Was avenging one girl worth hurting another? Did she have the guts to let these marauders hurt Cath this way? Cath, who had only suffered since that night of September 2nd, who was carrying a secret bigger and more damaging than anything these boys could imagine. Before Dorcas knew it, she’d climbed onto the bench and stood, holding her wand aloft. As if from far away, she could dimly hear her name shouted. 

“ _Finite incantatem_!” cried Dorcas. But the words kept coming,

_Junius…_

Dorcas looked around in a panic. Nearly all the faces in the hall had turned to look directly at her. Some, many, were turning now, to look at Cath, who backed away from the table, looking ready to retch.

“ _Rescindo_! _Caesum_!”

Dorcas shut her eyes and closed her mouth, thinking her spell in her head, her last resort. She brought her wand down swiftly.

There was a great chorus of screams as every cake in the hall exploded, showering everyone with dark chocolate. Just as Dorcas opened her eyes, wiping cake from her lashes, silence fell.

“Everyone,” said Dumbledore, with no need to magnify his voice for the silence in the hall was total. “Return to your dormitories. Heads, prefects, please--”

He waved his wand with a confident flick and the chocolate disappeared, leaving only shaken students in its wake.

* * *

“Alfie,” called Dorcas as she caught sight of the back of Alfred’s head. He didn’t turn. “ _Alfie_. Oh, you’re not talking to me now? Fine!”

Dorcas watched Alfred charge toward the basement entrance. She watched him disappear through the flickering shadows of the vaulted archway. She stopped in the middle of the entrance hall, surrounded by the churning currents of students heading back to their dormitories. She caught sight of Lily directing the foot traffic, and firmly ignoring James and Sirius as they pleaded their cases to her, gesturing emphatically. Dorcas walked over.

“We had to do it, Lily, they need to know that there are consequences for their actions--”

“We had to do it this way, Lils, I would know, I grew up around people like that, they only understand public humiliation, cruelty--”

“Why are you angry anyway, you _hate_ Snape--”

“And you hate bullies, _we_ gave them their comeuppance, we’re the good guys--”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” snapped Lily, turning to look at them. She looked at Dorcas, who turned to James and Sirius.

“What was your plan here exactly?” asked Dorcas angrily.

“I know these people, Dorcas,” said Sirius, flushing with heightened feeling. “I know their families. I know they’re death eaters--”

“Where’s your proof?”

“ _Proof_? Who cares?”

“You put Cassius and Cath in danger tonight,” said Dorcas, crossing her arms.

“How did we put Cath in danger? She has nothing to do with them--”

"She has everything to do with them, and now my brother and Dearborn have to investigate them all, and you're saying her dead boyfriend, the father of her child, was part of a fascist gang!”

There was a sudden hush as Dorcas realized how loudly she’d been shouting. Looking around, she saw students all around had stopped to stare, and Cassius and Cath had come to standstill behind her, hearing every word she'd said. Cassius looked away from Dorcas and down at Cath, whose face crumpled with tears. She stalked off toward the basement entrance and disappeared down the stairs, followed by whispers. Cassius stepped toward Dorcas. His face was contorted with disgust.

“You know what, Dorcas?” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “All you ever want to do is go snooping after everyone’s secrets, and look what happens! I won’t be another case for you to crack. Happy Halloween.”


	7. Let Nothing Ye Dismay

As the skies grew darker earlier and earlier, the November rains swept through the grounds. It was altogether a gloomy atmosphere, made gloomier by daggered looks that Cato Parkinson, Caledon Mulciber, Cuthbert Avery, and Severus Snape threw in the directions of Lily and Dorcas whenever they passed in the halls or sat down in Potions class. Throughout the first week of November, the publicly accused filed into Slughorn’s office one by one to be questioned. Cath Wilkes was called in last, looking pale and ill.

Lily looked for a bit of refuge in the music room with Mary. Lily sat down one gray afternoon and laid out her textbooks and parchment and began revising a long paper due at the end of term for Professor Slughorn: _On Cordyceps and their beneficial and Dark uses_. Lily scratched out a sentence in the second paragraph and wrote it again in the seventh, waved her wand and mopped up inkblots, and flipped through her Potions textbook. On the other side of the room, Mary tinkered with her wand and small bits of muggle machinery. Soft sounds poured from her trinkets. Voices, hums, and whispers rose and fell in volume as Mary made minute adjustments with her wand, her focus enfolded entirely within her work. Lily looked up, listening to the gentle cacophony that Mary was creating.

“Mary,” said Lily, putting down her parchments. “How are your studies coming?”

Mary said nothing and continued to work. Lily cleared her throat.

“What are you making?”

At this, Mary turned and looked at Lily. She smiled wide and moved away from the table where she’d been working, revealing what looked like a great, boxy muggle-style reel-to-reel tape recorder. 

“It’s called MARS. Magical Acoustic Recording Station.”

“Mary, are you sure? That looks like magnetic tape, there’s no way it works with all the magical interference in the air here.”

Mary rolled her eyes.

“That’s why it’s magical, silly.”

Mary’s face was shining in a way Lily hadn’t seen before.

“I’ve been working on it for months. I had a breakthrough when you mentioned the auditory charm at the beginning of term. This tape is not magnetic, but it is charmed, and can collect sound along its length that can be played back by this knob here--” Mary pointed to a knob on one side of the reels, “--which activates the charm, playing back the sound collected by the first charm. This--” Mary pointed to a panel of buttons, “-- is enchanted to repeat, and that--” she pointed to a lever on the side, “--is enchanted to magnify the sound. The sound stays in the charmed tape, which is collected on the reels. It basically becomes an audio document, it can be duplicated and transferred, and, thanks to a handy Perpetuity charm, never erased.”

“Mary, that’s brilliant,” Lily breathed, awed by the thoroughness and completeness of Mary’s work. She stood and approached the machine, circling it to get a better look, feeling the different magics at work as soft sounds poured out of it.

Mary’s smiled faded a bit.

“But I am failing all my classes. Alfie’s been helping me study, but I’m not sure what good it’ll do now. I don’t think I’ll make it to N.E.W.T.s.”

Lily watched Mary’s face cloud over.

“I just want to make music. To record music.”

“What if you showed this to your teachers,” said Lily.

“They don’t want to see this,” said Mary. “They want me to write my papers and practice my spellwork. It’s hopeless. The irony is that the one thing I’m good at is the one thing that I can’t hand in as homework.”

Lily had an idea. She fixed Mary with a bright, earnest look.

“You know, as Head Girl, I’ve got to plan the holiday party at the end of term. It’ll need some music. Why don’t you play for us?”

“I’ve never played for anyone in public before!”

“It’s not the public, really,” said Lily, reassuringly. “It’s people you know, your friends. Maybe a couple of professors. Professor Wilkes has offered the use of his office. You know it’s quite large.”

Mary demured.

“I suppose I could play a few songs.”

“You’ll need to bring some of your equipment, you know, whatever you’ve charmed to amplify sound. And bring your recorder--”

"MARS,” Mary corrected.

“Bring the MARS too,” said Lily, resting a hand on Mary’s shoulder and grinning. “You can make a live album.”

Mary smiled, the shine returning to her face again. Lily reached over and pulled Mary into a hug. Lily just had to put everything together in just the right way.

* * *

With her mind occupied by her paper on _cordyceps_ , preliminary party-planning on top of never-ending head girl duties, all while avoiding James Potter, Lily had a lot on her plate.

Potter had been the ringleader of the Halloween prank, Lily was sure of it. She’d hoped he’d grown out of the habit by now, but it was clear that, in the aftermath of Junius’s murder and investigation, the cancelling of extracurriculars, even as head boy he still had too much time on his hands. And, unfortunately, as her sister often snidely remarked, idle hands were the devil’s playthings.

As November faded away in a wash of cold, driving rain, Lily’s spirits lifted as the calendar approached Christmas. It was her favorite time of year.

Snowballs flew through the air, inciting riots that were quickly broken up by Professor McGonagall. Meanwhile, Dumbledore could be seen snowshoeing down to Hagrid’s hut, dressed in a fluffy fur coat and wearing a tall fur hat, to check on Hagrid’s barrels of homemade mulled mead. Outside his hut, Hagrid had hung great bundles of herbs to dry under the eaves of his roof. He had just finished rethatching it.

The only thing that seemed to keep joyous, open mutiny from breaking out among the seventh year N.E.W.T. students was the twenty-page paper Professor Wilkes had set on the topic of Trace Magic theory. That, at least, kept James in the library, where he composed his essay on roll upon roll of parchment beside Dorcas, who did the same. 

The sight of Hagrid checking the needles of the spruces growing behind his hut lightened Lily’s heart. Not only would it soon be Christmas, but she would also have two weeks to rest and not think about coursework or N.E.W.T.s or head girl duties. Just a quiet fruitcake and tea at home with her father, remembering her mother, while her sister hopefully skipped the holiday to spend it with her new boyfriend.

Whatever peaceful holiday she’d imagined was spoiled by a single letter from her sister. It consisted of a few, sharp, cold lines:

_I’ve gotten engaged. We’re having a do to celebrate. Dad said I must invite you. It’s at Vernon’s place, in Surrey, on New Year’s Eve._

Dorcas, unable to sit with the Slytherins for fear of being jinxed under the table, was enumerating her woes to Lily at Gryffindor table over a plate of eggs and bangers.

“--And Alfie’s still not speaking to me. _And_ this bloody paper on top of everything.”

Dorcas looked up in time to see Lily fold her sister’s letter while throwing furtive glances in James’s direction. Dorcas sighed and rolled her eyes.

“You need to talk to him.”

Lily flashed her eyes at Dorcas. It was the last piece of advice she wanted to hear. Of course she wanted to talk to James. She felt her whole body like a satellite, turned in his direction at all times, attuned to the sound of his voice. She also couldn’t stand to be anywhere near him, not after Halloween.

“What would I tell him,” said Lily finally, defeatedly. “That I think he’s a tosser, always has been, and after Halloween, has proven he always will be?”

“Is that really what you want to tell him,” said Dorcas as she shoveled a forkful of eggs into her mouth and sipped at her tea. 

“It is. And maybe a bit more,” Lily added shyly.

“Thought so.”

“But I could never.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” said Lily, looking away from staring unseeingly into Dorcas’s plate of scrambled eggs and bangers. Her eyes fell upon him again. Some winter sun had peeked through the clouds finally. It lit his hair just so, giving him a most undeservedly pretty look. His brown skin shone as he ran one lovely large hand through his bright black hair. He was summer warmth itself, even as the calendar steadily, unceasingly approached the longest night of the year. He was the sun, really. Did that make Lily Romeo in this scenario?

Lily shook herself mentally. Her mind was running away with her heart. She couldn’t let that happen.

“We’re more than just students, we’re coworkers, too. He’s head boy, I’m head girl. Nothing can happen between us.”

Dorcas let her fork and knife clatter to her plate, shocking Lily out of her daze.

“Ridiculous. Utterly absurd.”

Lily looked at Dorcas, surprised.

“You won’t be head boy and girl forever! And this, whatever it is, whatever already has happened, whatever will happen-- there’s a chance this, whatever’s between you, could be bigger than some stupid school job.”

Lily swallowed. Dorcas continued in a lower, more serious tone.

“I don’t think you’re dodging him because you don’t want to mess up your work. I think you’re afraid. And the Lily I know has faced down fascists, a Dark witch, and acted as a calm and collected leader when the school was in crisis after Junius. The Lily I know isn’t afraid of being abandoned. Afraid to be loved.”

It was too much for Lily to hear just then. She felt a lump rise in her throat.

“Right yampy, you are,” Lily muttered as she put her face in her hands. Dorcas stood and gathered her things. 

“I’ve gotta go write this bleeding paper. Next thing I hear better be you snogging Potter or I will hex you.”

Narrowly dodging a banger that Lily threw at her head, Dorcas ducked out of the Great Hall, leaving Lily to sip at her coffee and do her best to avoid James’s gaze.

* * *

Dorcas’s words continued to echo inconveniently in her head as Lily met up with James in a South Wing corridor as curfew fell.

“It’s our first patrol together in over a month,” James noted as they began to walk together, their footsteps echoing on the flagstones.

“I keep getting posted to meal and private study duties, it really is the strangest thing.”

Lily adjusted her skirt and said nothing.

“It feels like I haven’t seen you in a bit. Any news?”

“No, none,” responded Lily shortly.

James hemmed. “Not even cracking an insult. Did I do something wrong? What’s put you in this foul mood, Evans?”

“Can we just not talk, please? You’re ruining my concentration.”

There was quiet for a moment as Lily waved her wand at a tapestry along the wall. It flapped as if a great wind had raised it, revealing a dark, empty corridor. James waved his wand casually at a broom cupboard door which burst open, revealing nothing but brooms and dustpans. He cleared his throat.

After a long silence, James said, “Any news from home?” 

Lily thought immediately of the letter her sister had sent. She let out a sound of disgust before she could stop herself.

“Merlin, that bad, eh?”

“No,” said Lily, attempting to overcorrect. Of course she wanted to tell him. She was kicking herself for wanting to. She hated that she wanted to tell him everything that was going on in her life, as if he could fix it. She wanted him to.

“I had a letter from my sister,” she said.

“Ah yes. I recall she was a terror last Christmas.”

“Yes,” said Lily, remembering with a wave of mild nausea the nightmare of the previous holiday break: how Lily’s magical gift-- a volume of Shakespeare’s sonnets, enchanted to overflow with real flowers upon opening the book, intended for her father-- had so deeply upset Petunia, who accused Lily of selfishly refusing to save their mother with her magic. How Lily had snuck out her bedroom window to let off steam at a party held by Marlene at her home in Edinburgh that night. How she'd confessed her frustrations to James in the dark. Lily took a deep breath, reminding herself that she was back in Hogwarts, in an empty corridor, not in that place, not at that time. She realized that James was waiting patiently for her to keep talking.

“She’s invited me-- reluctantly, apparently-- to her engagement party in Surrey on New Year’s Eve.”

“You’re going?”

“Of course, I’m going, if only to be there for my father. As long as she doesn’t have another benny, maybe I can manage not to leg it this time.”

“I am going to pretend I understood what you just said,” said James with a light smile. Lily couldn’t help but smile back. James could be such a lovely person. Listening closely, empathetically. It was hard to believe that he was also capable of public humiliation like she’d seen at Halloween. The thought of it pissed her off anew. She turned to James suddenly as they came to the end of the corridor, standing before a great dark window with only winter starlight reflecting on the snowy grounds.

“How could you play that prank on Halloween night?” she said.

“What? I--”

“You got your revenge on the Slytherins, but you threw poor Cath under the bus to do it.”

“I didn’t know about her-- condition, none of us did.”

“I thought you’d stopped pranking,” said Lily, stepping closer as if she might push him down the stairs that descended behind him. 

James put his hands on her arms and pushed her backward into an empty classroom, giving Lily a thrill she refused to let show on her face. 

“Something had to be done,” he said in a low voice. “We had to do something to give Mary some peace of mind."

“Did she ask you to do it?” asked Lily, her back against the blackboard. She noted how her breath came more shallow, how James’s face was so close to hers in the dark. 

“No but…”

“Then this is about Snape, not Mary,” Lily charged. She was so mad she could’ve hexed James. She itched to reach for her wand but wasn’t sure what James would do. He stood within inches of her, looking closely at her. 

“Why do you care?” He asked quietly, searchingly.

“I don’t,” she said, too quickly.

“Yes, you do. You care. And not just about Mary.” 

It felt as if the oxygen had left the room. She looked into his face to see surprise there, and something else too. She could feel him reading her. She was sure he could see everything in her face, everything behind her eyes. Her frustration and her anger, yes, how she wanted to push him away, push the tip of her wand against his throat, make him pay for acting the tosser. At the same time, she wanted to pull him closer. Faced with him this way, unavoidable, inescapable James, she could feel her whole body vibrating. She swallowed.

“Lily,” he breathed. She closed her eyes. Her lips parted. He stepped so close she could feel the heat of him. She raised her hands gently, letting them rest on his upper arms. She felt his hands, their width, their strength, as they settled on her waist, squeezing almost imperceptibly, just enough to make her body give in as he pulled her close.

“No,” she whispered. She pushed him away, shaking her head.

As she walked away, out of the classroom, down the stairs, she felt the ghost of him all over her. The wetness of his lips that she’d come so close to tasting. The coldness left behind in the place where his hot hands had been. As she rounded a corner at the bottom of the stairs, she collapsed, trembling against a wall.

* * *

Lily threw herself into finalizing the holiday party. She visited the elves in the kitchens to check on the hors d’oeuvres, and the ribbon. She paid a visit to Hagrid to point out the spruces that she wanted. One to be installed in the office and decorated, and another to make wreaths. She conferred with Flitwick on the number and shininess of the baubles and with Kettleburn on the fairies that would light up the decorations. That afternoon she had only just enough time to get dressed and do her hair after having recruited prefects to help her finalize everything: lighting the tapers, adjusting the garlands. The last thing was to make sure to transfigure Wilkes’s desk into a little raised dais for Mary to perform on.

Arriving wearing a dress of red velvet, she was pleased with how her work had turned out. Mary, in a lovely deep blue frock, played carols on her guitar, magically amplified just loud enough to be heard above the conversation. Alfie stood by the little stage, listening placidly and tapping his foot. The room was warm, bright and pleasantly filled with students and teachers as floating platters of hors d’oeuvres and glittering glasses of bubbling butterbeer circulated among them. The lights, the ribbons, the red tapers, the baubles were all perfect. Dorcas, in a robe of dark emerald taffeta, came up to her to hug her and congratulated her on a lovely little party. 

“It won’t make us all forget this year, but it’ll help us all feel a bit more normal, even for a moment. You did a great job, Lil,” she said.

Lily looked around smiling, and caught James’s eye. He was unfairly beautiful in the golden fairy light. His hazel eyes shone, his hair was uncharacteristically tamed, and he wore a neat, dark dress robe ensemble. Lily couldn’t suppress a smile as she unthinkingly raised a hand to smooth her already-smooth chignon. 

“You look nice,” he said as he strode up to her. Lily looked for Dorcas, for some reassurance or some hint as to how to behave, but she’d disappeared. Lily shyly smiled up at James.

“Very-- er-- very pretty,” he said, stumbling over his words. Lily felt her face flush. When she looked up at him again, he was looking at her with a stupid, dazed smile on his face, as if he’d been hit over the head. She giggled nervously.

“You look nice, too,” she said. “Handsome.” 

“I can get you a butterbeer, if you like,” he said. Lily nodded and James walked away, following the floating platters. Lily took several deep breaths.

“What a lovely party you’ve put on!” said a jolly voice behind her. Lily turned to see Slughorn, who was smiling, holding a crystal glass of mulled mead and tugging on his gold waistcoat chain. 

“I didn’t know you had such a good eye for the visual,” Slughorn chuckled. Lily let her mouth curve into a smile. If she wanted her plan to work, she needed to flatter him. She put a hand on his arm, gently turning him around in the direction of the dais.

“Doesn’t Mary play so well,” she asked casually.

“Oh, the music is lovely,” Slughorn said, a bit dismissively as he sipped his mead.

“Yes,” said Lily. “She’s worked out how to magically amplify _and record_ on muggle equipment.” She smiled more broadly as Slughorn sputtered.

“What? Here in the castle? But that’s extraordinary for a student at her level!”

“Yes, I thought so too,” Lily gasped, intending to steer him toward Mary. “You know, I do believe Flitwick, in particular, would find the application of her advanced charmwork most engrossing.”

“Yes, yes,” Slughorn muttered, his eyes glazed over with the prospect of pointing out a student’s success to another teacher. “Yes, he’d be most interested to hear. Shocked it has escaped his notice this long.”

“He’ll want to hear all about it!” Said Lily, giving Slughorn a push toward the dais. She beamed watching Slughorn gush to Flitwick about Mary’s charmwork as if he’d discovered it himself. Lily grabbed an hors d’oeuvre and a flute of butterbeer from a floating platter and leaned against a pillar to watch as the two professors approached Mary during a break in her set. Mary’s face was bright with more than fairy lights as she described the magic she used to make music on muggle instruments within the castle. Slughorn and Flitwick were rapt as she spoke. Lily was even happier as Mary broke away from the professors as they congratulated to approach her. 

“Flitwick is going to re-evaluate my grades because he likes my recorder!”

“Oh Mary!” Lily grasped Mary’s hands.

“Says he thinks an independent study project will be more my speed than taking the N.E.W.T.s.”

Lily gasped and drew Mary into a hug. Over her shoulder, she could see Alfie standing attentively watching Mary.

“How’s it been, studying with Alfie?” she asked pointedly as she pulled out of the hug.

“Lovely,” said Mary. She bit her lip and blushed. “It’s been _awfully_ nice spending so much time with him.”

“Do you like him,” Lily whispered conspiratorially. 

“I do,” Mary confessed, gasping, glancing at Alfred every few minutes.

“Tell him!” said Lily. “Don’t resist! Don’t be afraid.”

Lily squeezed Mary’s hand.

“Thank him for his help and snog him!” 

Mary gasped excitedly. She turned toward the stage, where Alfie met her eye and stood up straight. They seemed to be drawn together by magnets as they approached each other. They stood in the middle of the floor, where Mary took Alfie’s hands. Lily felt her breath catch as she watched Alfie’s face change from anxious, expectant hope, to full delight, before they kissed under a sprig of mistletoe. Lily grinned, full of the warm feeling of being surrounded by love and light that comes with this time of year. Her eye took it all in, its soothing comfort, its joy. Then James caught her eye.

Lily cocked her head as she looked at him, two flutes of butterbeer in his hands, his eyes alight as he looked back at her. And she felt something electric pass between them. 

As she approached his position next to the door open to the balcony, and as she followed him through it, she thought of Dorcas’s advice. 

_There’s a chance this could be bigger… The Lily I know isn’t afraid...._

And Lily knew that’s what she’d been feeling all along. Underneath her anger that he’d played a prank on the Slytherins and endangered a fellow student, underneath her hesitance to get involved with her fellow Head student-- underneath all her excuses was her fear. That if she let herself admit her feelings, if she let him get close, the likelihood that he’d abandon her increased exponentially. 

The cold air was a relief after the warmth of the room. The quiet that comes with falling snow was a relief after the pressure of idle conversation. James handed her the flute of butterbeer and she sipped at it, knowing she didn’t want any, knowing she just needed something to do with her hands as she felt the truth wash over her. That she was ready to finally heed Dorcas, finally ready to follow her own advice that she’d just given to Mary.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” said James. He fidgeted a bit with his sleeves, and he seemed on the verge of reaching up to run a hand through his hair when Lily reached for it, held it in her own as he looked at her with a bit of shock in his eyes. Shock and something else. It was that something else Lily wanted.

“James,” she said in a low voice, almost a whisper as she pulled him closer. It happened so naturally, so quickly, Lily hardly registered it until their lips were pressed together. The way he came close as she pulled his arm around her, the way she threw one arm around his shoulders, pressed her palm against the back of his head, angled her face toward his, felt the heat of him become part of her own heat, the way kissing James Potter felt like learning the universe all in one go, but also just like kissing any other teenage boy. The way he was ordinary and extraordinary all at once. The way it felt both big and small. The way she felt she could do it every day for ever, that one kiss would never be enough. The way she remained terrified that she’d lose him before she ever had the chance to have him. The way it felt like there had never been anyone else, and there never would be anyone else. Just him. 

Lily walked away from James Potter that evening feeling right. She knew precisely what she needed to do. She walked away from the balcony, from her flute of butterbeer, from her party, from her friends and her professors, all the way up to the Head Office where she penned a short letter. 

_Dear Dumbledore_ , she wrote. _It is with great regret that I must forfeit my post as Head Girl. I am very sorry_. 

She placed her badge inside an envelope along with her note and walked up to Dumbledore’s office where she slipped the envelope underneath Dumbledore’s door. 

On her way back downstairs, Lily passed by the staff room where voices, the clinking of glasses, and the flicker of candlelight slipped through the door that had been left ajar. She paused momentarily to glance through the gap. She thought she recognized Kingsley’s dark silhouette, as well as Professor Wilkes and Slughorn. And there was the mysterious man again, one of the school governors, the pale man with the dark brown beard. Lily jumped back as Kingsley turned in her direction. She made her way down the drafty, dimly lit corridor back to Gryffindor common room, ready to pack her things for her return home, to finally, finally put down her responsibilities, and rest.


End file.
